
Rnnk .VIaA 




WASHINGTON AT EIGHTEEN. 



PICTORIAL LIFE 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 



EMBRACING 



ANECDOTES 



ILLUSTRATIVE OF HIS CHARACTER. 



EMBELLISHED WITH ENGRAVINaS, 



FOR THE YOUNG PEOPLE OFjrHE NATION HE FOUNDED 




PHILADELPHIA: 
LINDSAY AND BLAKISTON, 

CHESNUT STREET. 

1845. 






Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1845, by 

LINDSAY & BLAKISTON, 

in the clerk's office of the District Court of the United States for the 
Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 



63 03 



1. FAGAN, STEREOTYPER. 



PRINTED BY T. K. AND P. G. COLLINS. 

• (2) 




PREFACE. 

E present here, for the study of our 
youth, the history of the Father of his 
Country. When Napoleon, the most 
illustrious monarch of the elder nations, 
met an American at Toulon, he inquired of him, 
" How fares your countryman, the great Wash- 
ington ?" By all sorts and conditions of men, 
throughout the world, his greatness and his good- 
ness are acknowledged, and it is reasonable that we should 
be proud of him. He is our standard, by which we judge 
others who aspire to authority ; he is the model, by which 
the honourably ambitious endeavour to shape their own 
characters ; he is unlike all other heroes, for there is 
nothing in his actions or opinions to be concealed, nothing 
to be kept in the shade, nothing which does not tend to 
increase our love and admiration of him. It is very im- 
portant, therefore, that everything respecting Washington 
should be made familiar to the people. The first word of 

(iii) 



XV PREFACE. 

infancy should be mother, the second, father, the third, 
Washington. Through life, his glorious example should 
be constantly before the citizen, to animate and encourage 
him in the performance of duty. 

This little volume, written to interest and instruct the 
young, is from the most authentic materials. It is one of 
a series of works, of a similar description and purpose, 
which will be issued by its publishers. 

Philadelphia, July, 1845. 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER I. 

Birth and Parentage of Washington — Anecdote of his Mother — Means of 
Education — Courage of Washington — His Early Life — He is appointed 
a Surveyor — Designs of the French — Washington is appointed an Envoy 
to the French Commandant — Extracts from his Journal on that occasion 
— His Reception on his return — —He is Appointed a Lieutenant-Colonel 
— A Night Attack — Washington garrisons Fort Necessity — Is attacked by 
the French, and forced to Surrender — Terms of Capitulation — Washington 

resigns his Commission — Is appointed an Aid by General Braddock 

Defeat of Braddock — Washington is appointed Commander of the Virginia 
Forces — The French Evacuate Fort Duquesne — Its occupation by the 
British — Marriage of Washington 9 

CHAPTER 11. 

Encroachments of the British Parliament on the Rights of the Colonies — 
Alarm of the Colonists — The First Congress — Religious Habits of Wash- 
ington — He is elected by Congress to the Command of the Colonial 
Forces — His Remarks on his Election — He proceeds to the Head-Quarters 
of the Army — Arnold's Expedition — Troubles in the South — Attack on 
Fort Moultrie — Defeat of the British — Washington prepares to attack 
Boston — The British Evacuate the City 35 

CHAPTER III. 

Washington proceeds to New York — Endeavours to put the City in a State 
of Defence — Is opposed by the LoyaUsts — Declaration of Independence — 

(5) 



VI CONTENTS. 

Arrival of General Howe — Battle of Long Island — Skilful Retreat of the 
Americans — Washington abandons New York — General Howe proposes 
a Conference with the Americans — His terms rejected 51 

CHAPTER IV. 

Washington retreats to White Plains — Is attacked by the British, and com- 
pelled to change his position — Capture of Fort Washington by the British 
—Dismay of the Americans — Insolence of the Tories — Destitution of the 
Army — Their Heroism — Capture of General Lee — Battle of Trenton — 
Critical situation of Washington — His withdrawal therefrom — Battle of 
Princeton — Moral effect of the victories of Trenton and Princeton — The 
British embark on board their Fleet 61 

CHAPTER V. 

Campaign of 1777 — Arrival of Lafayette — Battle of Brandywine — Occupa- 
tion of Philadelphia by the British — Battle of Germantown — Defeat of 
Baum and Breyman — Surrender of Burgoyne — Intrigue of Gates to dis- 
place Washington — Patriotism of Lydia Darrah — Disappointment of 
Howe — Skirmishing 75 

CHAPTER VI. 

Sufferings of the Army at Valley Forge — Their unshrinking Patriotism — 
Parliament attempts to negotiate a Peace — Offers Pardon, but refuses to 
acknowledge the Independence of the Colonies — Congress will not enter- 
tain the Proposition — Treaty with France — Battle of Monmouth — Insub- 
ordination of General Lee — He is suspended — Siege of Newport 85 

CHAPTER VII. 

Capture of Stony Point — Movements in the South — The British capture 
Charleston — Distress of the Americans — Reappearance of the British in 
New Jersey — They are again compelled to retreat — Arrival of French re- 



CONTENTS. Vll 

inforcements — Washington meditates an attack on New York — Failure of 
his Plan 96 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Treason of Arnold — Capture of Andre — Patriotism of Paulding, Williams 
and Van Wart — Escape of Arnold — Execution of Andre — Battle of the 
Cowpens — Symptoms of Sedition — Skirmishing in Virginia 107 

CHAPTER IX. 

Feigned design to attack New York — Clinton deceived thereby — Expedition 
of the allied Forces against Cornwallis — Arnold invades Connecticut — 
Storms Fort Griswold — Siege of Yorktown — Surrender of Cornwallis — 
Rejoicing of the Americans 122 

CHAPTER X. 

Prospects of Peace — Departure of the French Forces — Washington prepares 
for another Campaign — Sir Guy Carleton appointed Commander-in-Chief 
of the British Forces — Empowered to negotiate a reconciliation — Commis- 
sioners appointed for that purpose — Recognition of the Independence of the 
United States — Washington dismisses the Troops from service 129 

CHAPTER XI. 

New York finally evacuated by the British — An affecting Scene — Washing- 
ton resigns his Command — He retires to Mount Vernon — Devotes himself 
to Agriculture — Generosity of the Virginia Legislature — Disinterestedness 
of Washington — He is visited by Lafayette 137 



CHAPTER XII. 

General Convention — Adoption of the new Constitution — Washington 
chosen President — His progress from Mount Vernon to New York — En- 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

thusiastic reception at Trenton — At New York — Inauguration — Extracts 
from his Inaugural Address — Reply of the Senate 148 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Administration of Washington — Indian Difficulties — Negotiations with Spain 

With England — With Morocco — Troubles with France — Imprisonment 

of Lafayette — Efforts of Washington to procure his release — Unsuccessful 
attempt at escape — Washington's Farewell Address — Good advice. . . 164 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Retirement of Washington — His personal appearance — Athletic Exercises — 
Portraits of Washington — Anecdotes — Habits worthy of imitation. . 181 

CHAPTER XV. 

Closing Scene — Illness of Washington — Remedial measures — Their ill-suc- 
cess — Preparations for departing — Death of Washington — Grief of the 
Nation 1 90 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Comparison between Washington and Napoleon 200 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Conclusion — Tribute of Gratitude — Removal and re-interment of Washing- 
ton's Remains 216 



LIFE 



GEORGE WASHINGTON, 



CHAPTER I. 




George Washington was bom 

in the parish of Washington, West- 
moreland County, Virginia, on the 
22(1 of February, 1732. He was de- 
scended from a family which first became 
known about the middle of the 13th century. 
It was then a custom in England for gen- 
tlemen to take the name of their estates, and 
from William de Hertburn, owner of the manor of 
Washington, in Durham, descended the various 
branches of the Washington family fn England and 
in this country. In 1538, Lawrence Washington, 
Esquire, was proprietor of the manor of Sulgrave, 
in Northamptonshire. One of his sons was a baro- 
net, and married to a sister of the Duke of Buck- 

(9) 



10 L I F E O F 

ingham. Two others, John and Lawrence, emigrated 
to Virginia, where they became successful planters. 
John was the grandfather of George Washington, 
w^hose father, Lawrence Washington, at the time 
of his birth, resided near the banks of the Potomac, 
but soon after removed to an estate near Fredericks- 
burg, where he died, after a sudden illness, on the 
12th of April, 1743, at the age of forty-nine. 

Mrs. Washington, on whom the education of her 
children now devolved, was a remarkable woman. 
She had much good sense, tenderness and assiduity. 
She had been very beautiful, and a great belle in the 
northern part of Virginia. Her manners, however, 
were unaffected, and she possessed all those domestic 
habits which confer value on her sex. She lived 
until her son reached the highest pinnacle of glory, 
and it is related of her, that being at a ball given to 
him, at this period, she said to him when nine o'clock 
came, with perfect simplicity, " Come, George, it is 
time to go home." Her fears, combined with her 
affection, in his youth, prevented a measure, which, 
if persevered in, would have given a direction to 
the talents and views of her son, very different from 
that which laid the foundation of his fame. Young 
Washington, when only fifteen years old, solicited 
and obtained the place of a midshipman in the Brit- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 11 

ish navy ; but his ardent zeal to serve his country, 
then at war with France and Spain, was, on the in- 
terference of his mother, for the present suspended, 
and for ever diverted from the sea service. She 
Hved to see him acquire higher honours than he ever 
could have obtained as a naval officer ; nor did she 
depart this life till he was elevated to the first offices, 
both civil and military, in the gift of his country. 
She was, nevertheless, from the influence of long 
established habits, so far from being partial to the 
American revolution, that she often regretted the 
side her son had taken in the controversy between 
her king and her country. 

The means of education, one hundred years ago, 
were in this country very inferior to those which my 
young readers enjoy. There were no common 
schools, and the richest inhabitants did not, in most 
cases, attempt to give their children more instruction 
than was necessary to fit them for the discharge 
of ordinary business. George Washington's first 
teacher was a tenant of his father, named Hobby, 
who lived to see his pupil commander of the Ame- 
rican armies ; and he used to boast that he had " laid 
the foundation of his greatness." He afterwards 
went to the school of a Mr. Williams, where he 
maintained that standing among boys which he was 



12 L I FE O F 

destined to sustain among men. Such was his cha- 
racter for veracity that his word was sufficient to 
settle a disputed point with the scholars, who were 
accustomed to receive his award with acclamations ; 
and such his reputation for courage as well as firm- 
ness, that though he never, on any occasion, fought 
with his fellows, he never received either insult or 
wrong. He was as much beloved as respected, and 
when he left school, it is said that the scholars parted 
from him with tears. 

Washington's mother was very fond of fine horses, 
insomuch that when, on one occasion, she had 
become possessed of a pair of handsome greys, 
she caused them to be turned out to pasture 
in a meadow in front of the house, from which 
they could at all times be seen from the window of 
her sitting-room. It chanced that she, at one time, 
owned a favourite young horse, which had never 
been broken to the saddle, and no one was permitted 
to ride him. On some occasion, a party of youths, on 
a visit to the house, proposed, after dinner, to mount 
the colt and make the circuit of the pasture. No 
one could do it, and many were defeated in attempt- 
ing to mount, or thrown from the colt's back after- 
wards. George succeeded, however, and gave the 
favourite such a breathing that he at length fell 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 13 

under his rider, who immediately went and told bis 
mother what he had done. Her reply deserves to 
be recorded. " Young man," said she, " I forgive 
you, because you have the courage to tell the truth 
at once ; had you skulked away, I should have des- 
pised you." 

The contemporaries of Washington have gene- 
rally represented his early life as grave and thought- 
ful, but docile, inquisitive, and diligent. His love of 
military affairs was always apparent. He would 
form his schoolmates and other associates into 
companies, and with them parade, march, and fight 
mimic battles. There was a certain adjutant Muse, 
well acquainted with military tactics, who taught 
him the manual exercise, and loaned him the best 
books of that day on the art of war; and a Mon- 
sieur Van Braam instructed him in fencino^. He 
was also very fond of all sorts of athletic sports, of 
running, jumping, wrestling, tossing bars, and other 
feats of agility and bodily exercise. These practices 
were continued by him, indeed, in mature life. It is 
related of him, that his character for judgment and 
sincerity was so high as to win the deference of 
other boys, who were accustomed to make him an 
arbiter in their disputes with each other, and never 
were dissatisfied with his decisions. 



14 LIFE OF 

The manuscript school-books of Washington have 
been preserved, and they indicate the natural cast 
of his mind. Among them is a Book of Forms, 
such as notes of hand, receipts, bills of exchange, 
deeds, and wills, written out with his own hand, 
before he was fifteen years old. The most interest- 
ing of these books, however, is one called Rules of 
Behaviour in Company and Conversation; consisting 
of maxims and regulations of conduct, drawn from 
various sources, which he made at about the same 
period. It inculcates the moral virtues, strict cour- 
tesy in his social intercourse, and, above all, the 
practice of a perfect self-control. 

Soon after he left school, Washington went to re- 
side with his elder brother, Lawrence, at his place 
on the Potomac river, called Mount Vernon, in 
honour of the admiral of that name. Lawrence 
Washington had married a daughter of Wilham 
Fairfax, a gentleman of great wealth and influence 
in the colony, who lived at Belvoir, a short distance 
from Mount Vernon, and with his family George 
now became intimate. William Fairfax was a dis- 
tant relative of Lord Fairfax, an eccentric noble- 
man, who was at this time residing at Belvoir. Lord 
Fairfax was owner of one of the largest estates in 
America. It was between the Potomac and Rap- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 15 

pahannoc rivers, and stretched across the Alleghany 
mountains. It was unsurveyed, and settlers were 
beginning to select and occupy the finest parts of it. 
To enable him to claim rents, and give legal titles, 
it was necessary that the land should be divided into 
lots, and accurately measured. He had formed a very 
high opinion of Washington's abihties, and deter- 
mined to intrust to him these important duties. It 
was in March, 1748, just a month after his sixteenth 
birth-day, that, with young George Fairfax, William 
Fairfax's eldest son, Washington set out upon his 
first surveying expedition. It was a most laborious 
and fatiguing service. The season was stormy, and 
still cold ; the rivers were swollen by the recent rains, 
so as to be impassable except by swimming the 
horses, and the forests were pathless and trackless. 
But he performed his duty in such a manner as to 
give perfect satisfaction to his employer, and esta- 
blish his professional reputation. He soon after 
received a commission as a public surveyor, and for 
three years was almost constantly engaged in this 
pursuit, strengthening his habits and constitution by 
hardships and exposures, and increasing all the while 
his reputation for integrity, energy, and abihty. 

The French, as the first European discoverers of 
that river, claimed all that immense region whose 



16 L 1 F E O F 

waters run into the Mississippi. In pursuance of 
this claim, in the year 1753, they took possession of 
a tract of country supposed to be within the char- 
tered hmits of Virginia, and were proceeding to erect 
a chain of posts from the lakes of Canada to the 
river Ohio, in subserviency to their plan of connect- 
ing Canada with Louisiana, and limiting the English 
colonies to the east of the Alleghany mountains. 
The high character which Washington had gained, 
is shown by the fact that now, when he was not yet 
twenty-one years of age, he was selected by the 
royal governor of Virginia, to convey a letter to St. 
Pierre, the French commandant on the Ohio, remon- 
strating against the prosecution of these designs, as 
hostile to the rights of England. The young envoy 
was instructed to ascertain the objects of the enemy; 
to conciliate the affection of the native tribes ; and 
to procure as nmch useful intelligence as possible. 
In the discharge of his duty, he set out on the 15th 
of November, from Will's Creek, then an extreme 
frontier settlement, and pursued his course through a 
vast unexplored wilderness, amid rains and snows, 
over rivers of difficult passage, and among hostile 
tribes of Indians. When his horses were disabled, 
he proceeded on foot, with a gun in his hand and a 
pack on his back. He observed every thing with 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 17 

the eye of a soldier, and particularly designated the 
forks of the Monongahela and Alleghany rivers 
(the spot where Fort Duquesne was afterwards built, 
and where Pittsburg now stands) as an advanta- 
geous position for a nailitary post. Here he 
secured the confidence of several neighbouring In- 
dians, and persuaded them to accompany him. With 
them he ascended the Alleghany river and French 
Creek, to a fort on the river le Boeuf, one of its 
western branches, where he found Le Gardeur de St. 
Pierre, the commandant on the Ohio, delivered to 
him Governor Dinwiddie's letter, and receiving his 
answer, returned with it to Williamsburg on the se- 
venty-eighth day after he had received his appoint- 
ment. The patience and firmness which he displayed 
on this occasion merited and obtained a large share 
of applause. A journal of the whole was published, 
and inspired the pubHc with high ideas of the ener- 
gies both of his body and mind. From this inte- 
resting journal, the first publication of Washington, 
we here present some extracts : 

" I took," he says, " my necessary papers, pulled 
oflf my clothes, and tied myself up in a watch-coat. 
Then, with gun in hand, and pack on my back, in 
which were my papers and provisions, I set out with 
Mr. Gist. The next day, after we had passed a 

B 



18 L I F E O F 

place called Murdering Town, we fell in with a party 
of French Indians who had lain in wait for us. One 
of them fired at us, not fifteen steps off, but fortu- 
nately missed. We took the fellow into custody, 
and kept him till nine o'clock at night, then let him 
go, and walked the remaining part of the night with-„ 
out making any stop, that we might get the start so 
far as to be out of the reach of pursuit the next day, 
since we w^ere well assured they would follow our 
track as soon as it was light. The next day we 
continued travelling until quite dark, and got to the 
river about two miles above Shanopin. We expected 
to have found the river frozen, but it was not, except 
about fifty yards from the shore. The ice, I sup- 
pose, had broken up above, for it was driving in vast 
quantities. 

" There was no way of getting over but on a raft, 
which we set about with but one poor hatchet, and 
finished just after sunsetting. This was a whole 
day's work. We next launched it — then went on 
board and set oflf— but before we were half over, 
we were jammed in the ice in such a manner that 
we expected every moment our raft to sink, and our- 
selves to perish. I put out my setting-pole to try 
and stop the raft, that the ice might pass by, when 
the rapidity of the stream threw it with such force 




WASHINGTON CROSSING THE ALLEGHANY, 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 19 

against the pole, that it jerked me out into ten feet 
water ; but I fortunately saved myself by catching 
hold of one of the raft-logs. Notwithstanding all 
our efforts, we could not get to either shore, but 
were obliged, as we were near an island, to quit our 
raft and make for it. 

" The cold was extremely severe, and Mr. Gist 
had all his fingers and some of his toes frozen. The 
water was shut up so hard that we found no diffi- 
culty in getting off the island the next morning on 
the ice, and proceeding to Mr. Frazier's. We met 
here with twenty warriors who were going to the 
southward to war; but coming to a place at the 
head of the Great Kenawha, where they found seven 
people killed agd scalped, (all but one woman with 
light hair,) they turned about and ran back, for fear 
the inhabitants should rise, and take them for the 
authors of the murders. They report that the bodies 
were lying about the house, and some of them torn 
and eaten by the hogs. As we intended to take 
horses here, and it required some time to find them, 
I went up three miles to the Yohogany to visit Queen 
Allequippa, who had expressed great concern that 
we had passed her in going to the fort. I made her 
a present of a watch-coat and a bottle of rum, which 
latter was thought much the best present of the two." 



20 L I F E O F 

In the midst of such wild scenes, were the first 
years devoted by Washington to the service of his 
country passed. It might have been expected that 
this apprenticeship to savage warfare would have 
made his deportment rough and his disposition fero- 
cious. But it was not so. In the whole course of 
his after-life he maintained a mild courtesy to all 
mankind, and throughout his long military career 
not one act of cruelty was ever laid to his charge. 
His piety and principles placed him above the reach 
of contamination, and neither adversity nor prospe- 
rity could corrupt his mind or influence his manners. 
The gold was too pure to become rusted by any vicis- 
situdes. 

The House of Burgesses was then in session,, 
when he arrived at Williamsburg, and Washington 
happening to enter the gallery, the speaker immedi- 
ately rose, and moved that " the thanks of the House 
be given to Major Washington, who now sits in the 
gallery, for the gallant manner in which he executed 
the iniportant trust lately reposed in him by his ex- 
cellency Governor Dinwiddie." Every member of 
the House now rose and saluted Washington with 
a general bow, and the sentiment of the speaker 
was echoed by more than one member expressing 
his sense of his merit and services. W^ashington in 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 21 

vain attempted to make his acknowledgements for 
this high honour. His voice failed him, and the 
frame that never before or after trembled in the pres- 
ence of an enemy, now faltered under the compli- 
ments of assembled friends. It was then that the 
speaker, noticing his embarrassment, made him this 
just and memorable compliment, — " Sit down. Major 
Washington ; your modesty is alone equal to your 
merit." It will appear in the sequel that this mo- 
desty accompanied him through his whole life, and 
while it acted as a stimulus to new exertions, checked 
every feeling, or, at least, exhibition, of pride at their 
success. Though, m all probability, aware of his 
superiority over other men, this consciousness never 
operated to diminish his ardour to increase it by 
every means in his power ; nor did lie ever yield to 
the common foible of youth, which converts prema- 
ture honours into an excuse for a total remission of 
all future efforts to deserve them. 

The French were too intent on their favourite 
project of extending their empire in America, to be 
diverted from it by the remonstrances of a colonial 
governor. The answer brought by Washington in- 
duced the assembly of Virginia to raise a regiment 
of 300 men, to defend their frontiers and maintain 
the right claimed in behalf of Great Britain over the 



22 L I F E O F 

disputed territory. Of this George Washington 
was appointed lieutenant-colonel, and advanced with 
two companies, early in April, as far as the Great 
Meadows, where he was informed by some friendly 
Indians, that the French were erecting fortifications 
in the fork between the Alleghany and Monongahela 
rivers ; and also, that a detachment was on its march 
from that place towards the Great Meadows. War 
had not been yet formally declared between France 
and England, but as neither was disposed to recede 
from their claims to the lands on the Ohio, it was 
deemed inevitable, and on the point of commencing. 
Several circumstances were supposed to indicate a 
hostile intention on the part of the advancing French 
detachment. Washington, under the guidance of 
some friendly Indians, in a dark rainy night sur- 
prised their encampment, and, after firing once, 
rushed in and surrounded them. The commanding 
officer, Mr. Jumonville, was killed, one person 
escaped, and all the rest immediately surrendered. 
Soon after this aflfair, Col. Fry, the chief officer, 
died, and the entire command devolved on Wash- 
ington, who speedily collected the whole regiment at 
the Great Meadows. Two independent* companies 
of regulars, one from New York, and one from 
South Carolina, shortly after arrived at the same 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 23 

place. Col. Washington was now at the head of 
nearly 400 men. A stockade, afterwards called 
Fort Necessity, was erected at the Great Meadows, 
in which a small force w^as left, and the main body 
advanced with a view of dislodging the French from 
Fort Duquesne, which they had recently erected, at 
the confluence of the Alleghany and Monongahela 
rivers. They had not proceeded more than thirteen 
miles, when they were informed by friendly Indians, 
" that the French, as numerous as pigeons in the 
woods, were advancing in a hostile manner towards 
the English settlements, and also, that Fort Duquesne 
had been recently and strongly reinforced." In this 
critical situation, a council of war unanimously re- 
commended a retreat to the Great Meadows, which 
w^as effected without delay, and every exertion made 
to render Fort Necessity tenable. Before the works 
intended for that purpose were completed, Mons. de 
Villier, w^ith a considerable force, attacked the fort. 
The assailants were covered by trees and high grass. 
The Americans received them with great resolution, 
and fought, some w^ithin the stockade, and others in 
the surrounding ditch. Washington continued the 
whole da.y on the outside of the fort, and conducted 
the defence with the greatest coolness and intrepidity. 
The engagement lasted from ten in the morning till 



24 



LIFE OF 



night, when the French commander demanded a 
parley, and offered terms of capitulation. His first 
and second proposals were rejected ; and Washing- 
ton would acccept of none short of the following 
honourable ones, which were mutually agreed upon 
in the course of the night. " The fort to be sur- 
rendered on condition that the garrison should march 
out with the honours of war, and be permitted to 
retain their arms and baggage, and to march unmo- 
lested into the inhabited parts of Virginia." The 
legislature of Virginia, impressed with a high sense 
of the brave and good conduct of their troops, 
though compelled to surrender the fort, voted their 
thanks to Col. Washington and the officers under 
his command, and they also gave three hundred pis- 
toles to be distributed among the soldiers engaged in 
this action, but made no arrangements for renewing 
offensive operations in the remainder of the year 
1754. 

In the course of the next winter, orders were re- 
ceived, that officers who had commissions from the 
king, should be placed above those belonging to the 
province, without regard to their rank. The feeling 
of what was due to him as an American, .prevented 
Washington from submitting to this unjust regula- 
tion, and he resigned his commission. Many letters 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 25 

were written to him, to persuade him not to do so ; 
and he answered them, with an assurance that he 
would " serve wilhngly, when he could do so with- 
out dishonour." His eldest brother had died, and 
left to him a farm called Mount Vernon, situated in 
Virginia, near the Potomac river; he took posses- 
sion of it, and began to employ himself industriously 
in its cultivation. While he was thus engaged, 
General Braddock was sent from England, to pre- 
pare and command troops for the defence of Vir- 
ginia, through the summer. Hearing of the conduct 
of Washington as an officer, and of his reasons for 
giving up his commission, he invited him to become 
his aid-de-camp. He accepted the invitation, on 
condition that he might be permitted to return to 
his farm when the active duties of the campaign 
should be over. The army was formed of two reo-i- 
ments of British troops, and a few companies of 
Virginians. The third day after the march com- 
menced, Washington was taken ill, with a violent 
fever. He would not consent to be left behind, and 
was laid in a covered wagon. He thought that it 
was very important to reach the frontier as soon as 
possible, and he knew the difficulties of the way ; he 
therefore proposed to General Braddock, who asked 
his advice, to send on a part of the army, while the 



26 L I F E O F 

Other part moved slowly, with the artillery and bag- 
gage-wagons. Twelve hundred men were chosen, 
and General Braddock accompanied them; but 
though not cumbered with baggage, their move- 
ments did not satisfy Washington. He wrote to his 
brother, that, " instead of pushing on with vigour, 
without minding a little rough road, they were halt- 
ing to level every molehill, and erect bridges over 
every brook." What seemed mountains to them, 
M^ere molehills to the ardent temper of Washington. 
His illness increased so much, that the physician 
said his life would be endangered by going on, and 
General Braddock would not suffer him to do so, 
but gave him a promise to have him brought after 
him, so soon as he could bear the ride. He reco- 
vered sufficiently, in a short time, to join the ad- 
vanced troops ; and though very weak, entered im- 
mediately on the performance of his duties. 

General Braddock proceeded on his march vrithout 
disturbance, until he arrived at the Monongahela 
river, about seven miles from Fort Duquesne. As 
he was preparing to cross the river, at the place 
since called Braddock's Ford, a few Indians were 
seen on the opposite shore, who made insulting ges- 
tures, and then turned and fled as the British troops 
advanced. Braddock gave orders that the Indians 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 27 

should be pursued. Colonel Washington was well 
acquainted with the manner in which the French, 
assisted by Indians, made their attacks ; and being 
aware of the danger into which the troops might be 
led, he earnestly entreated General Braddock not to 
proceed, until he should, with his Virginia rangers, 
search the forest. His proposal offended Braddock, 
who disregarded the prudent counsel, and ordered 
his troops to cross the river ; the last of them were 
yet wading in it, when the bullets of an unseen 
enemy thinned the ranks of those who had been in- 
cautiously led into the entrance of a hollow, where 
the French and Indians were concealed by the thick 
underwood, from which they could securely fire on 
the English. In a few moments, the fearful war- 
whoop was sounded, and the French and Indians 
rushed from their shelter on the astonished troops 
of Braddock, and pursued them to the banks of the 
Monongahela. 

In vain did their commander, and the undaunted 
Washington, endeavour to restore them to order 
and prevent their flight. The deadly aim of the 
enemy was so sure, that in a very short time Wash- 
ington was the only aid of General Braddock that 
was left to carry his orders and assist in encouraging 
the aflfrighted troops. For three hours, he was ex- 



28 L I F E O F 

posed to the aim of the most perfect marksmen ; 
two horses fell under him j a third was wounded ; 
four balls pierced his coat, and several grazed his 
sword ; every other officer was either killed or 
wounded, and he alone remained unhurt. The In- 
dians directed the flight of their arrows towards his 
breast, and the French made him a mark for their 
rifles ; but both were harmless, for the shield of his 
God protected him, and "covered his head in the 
heat of battle." His safety in the midst of such 
attacks, astonished his savage enemies, and they 
called him " The Spirit-protected man, who would 
be a chief of nations, for he could not die in battle." 
Thus did even the savages own a divine power in 
his preservation ; and the physician, who was on the 
battle-ground, in speaking of him afterwards, said, 
"I expected every moment to see him fall; — his 
duty, his situation, exposed him to every danger ; 
nothing but the superintending care of Providence 
could have saved him from the fate of all around 
him." This battle took place on the 8th of July, 
1755. In a note to a sermon preached a month 
afterwards, by the Rev. Mr. Davies, of Virginia, we 
find mention made by the author of " that heroic 
youth, Colonel Washington, whom I cannot but hope 



GEORGEWASHINGTON. 29 

Providence has hitherto preserved, in so signal a 
manner, for some important service to his country." 

General Braddock was mortally wounded, and his 
few remaining soldiers then fled in every direction. 
But his brave and faithful aid, with about thirty 
courageous Virginians, remained on the field, to save 
their wounded commander from the hatchet and the 
scalping-knife of the Indians. They conveyed him 
with tenderness and speed towards that part of his 
army which was slowly advancing with the baggage, 
and he died in their camp, and was buried in the 
middle of a road, that his grave might be concealed 
from the Indians by wagon-tracks. 

In writing an account of this dreadful defeat, 
Washington said, '' See the wondrous works of Pro- 
vidence, and the uncertainty of human things !" He 
was much distressed by the loss of the army ; and 
the officer next in command to General Braddock, 
instead of endeavouring to prepare for a better de- 
fence, went into winter-quarters, although it was only 
the month of August. It was thought necessary to 
raise more troops immediately, and the command of 
all that should be raised in Virginia was offered to 
Washington, with the privilege of naming his own 
officers. He willingly accepted this offer, as he 
could do so without placing himself under British 



30 LI F E O F 

commanders, who were not really above him in rank. 
He immediately set off to visit the troops that had 
been placed in different situations along the borders 
of the province ; and on his return to prepare for 
an active defence, he was overtaken by a messenger, 
with an account, that a number of French troops 
and Indian warriors, divided into parties, were cap- 
turing and murdering the inhabitants of the back set- 
tlements, burning the houses, and destroying the 
crops ; and that the troops stationed there, were un- 
able to protect them. Washington immediately used 
every means within his power to provide for their 
relief; but it was impossible to defend, with a few- 
troops, a frontier of almost four hundred miles, from 
an enemy that " skulked by day, and plundered by 
night." While he was anxiously doing what he 
could, he wrote to the governor an account of the 
distress around him ; and added, " I see their situa- 
tion, I know their danger, and participate in their suf- 
ferings, without having the power to give them fur- 
ther relief than uncertain promises. The supplicat- 
ing tears of the women, and the moving petitions of 
the men, melt me with deadly sorrow." It might 
have been expected, that the people in their distress 
would blame him for not protecting them better ; but 
no uiurmur rose against him ; they all acknowledged, 



GEORGE W A S H J N G r O N . 31 

that he was doing as much for them as was within 
his power. He wrote the most pressing requests for 
more assistance ; but instead of receiving it, he was 
treated unkindly, as he related in a letter to a friend. 
" Whence it arises, or why, I am truly ignorant, 
but my strongest representations of matters, relative 
to the peace of the frontiers, are disregarded as idle 
and frivolous ; my propositions and measures as par- 
tial and selfish ; and all my sincerest endeavours for 
the service of my country, perverted to the worst 
purposes. My orders are dark, doubtful and uncer- 
tain. To-day approved, to-morrow condemned ; left 
to act and proceed at hazard, and blamed without 
the benefit of defence. However, I am determined 
to bear up some time longer, in the hope of better 
regulations." Though disappointed in all his best 
formed plans, by the obstinacy and ill-nature of the 
person who had the power to control him, and pained 
by the increasing suflerings around him, which he 
was not enabled to relieve, yet he did not suffer an 
angry resentment to induce him to give up the effort 
of doing some good. He continued his active and 
humane endeavours, and pleaded for the relief of 
his suflfering countrymen, until his pleadings w^ere 
called impertinent. In answer to this he wrote to 
the governor, " I must beg leave, in justification of 



32 LI F E O F 

my own conduct, to observe that it is with pleasure 
I receive reproof, when reproof is due ; because no 
person can be readier to accuse me than I am to 
acknowledge an error, when I have committed it ; 
or more desirous of atoning for a crime, when I am 
sensible of being guilty of one. But on the other 
hand, it is with concern I remark, that my conduct, 
although I have uniformly studied to make it as un- 
exceptionable as I could, does not appear to you in 
a favourable light." With calm dignity he endured 
a continuance of such vexations, without ceasing to 
toil in his almost hopeless work of humanity. 

A new commander of the British troops was sent 
from England, and he listened to Washington's opi- 
nion, that the frontiers could not be freed from the 
attacks of the Indians, in connection with the 
French, until they were driven from Fort Duquesne ; 
for that was the place from which they started on 
their -destructive expeditions. When it was deter- 
mined that this should be attempted, Washington 
advanced with a few troops, to open the way for the 
army ; but before they reached the fort, the French 
left it. The English took possession of it in No- 
vember, 1758, and named it Fort Pitt. As Wash- 
ington had expected, the possession of this fort pre^ 
vented all further attacks on the frontiers ; and when 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 33 

his countrymen were secured from the dangers 
against which he had left his farm to assist in defend- 
ing them, he determined on returning to it. His 
health had been injured by his exposure to se- 
vere cold, and being often, for many days, unshel- 
tered from the falling rain ; and he felt that he ought 
to use means to restore it, as he could do so with- 
out neglecting a more important duty. He resigned 
his commission, and the officers whom he had com- 
manded united in offering to him affectionate assur- 
ances of regret for the loss of "such an excellent 
commander, such a sincere friend, and so affable a 
companion." 

Soon after his return to his farm, in the twenty- 
seventh year of his age, he married Mrs. Custis, a 
lady to whom he had been long attached, and who 
was deserving of his affection. She had an amia- 
ble temper, and was an agreeable companion ; and 
in performing all the duties of a wife, she made his 
home a scene of domestic comfort, which he felt no 
desire to leave. Employing himself in directing the 
cultivation of his ground, and in the performance of 
all the private duties of his situation, he lived for 
several years in retirement, except when attending 
the legislature of Virginia, of which he was a member. 

For the benefit of his health, he sometimes visited 
c 



34 L I F E O F 

a public spring in his native state, to which sick per- 
sons went, with the hope of being reheved by using 
the w^ater. At the season when there were many 
persons there, it was the custom of a baker to fur- 
nish a particular kind of bread, for those who could 
afford to pay a good price for it. One day it was 
observed by a visiter, that several miserably poor 
sick persons tottered into the room where the bread 
was kept, and looked at the baker, who nodded his 
head, and each one took up a loaf, and, with a cheer- 
ful countenance, walked feebly away. The visiter 
praised the baker for his charitable conduct, in let- 
ting those have his bread, whom he knew could never 
pay him ; but he honestly answered, " I lose nothing. 
Colonel Washington is here, and all the sick poor 
may have as much of my bread as they can eat; he 
pays the bill, and I assure you it is no small one." 

Such was the beginning of the career of the great- 
est of men. This book is prepared for the youth 
of our country. Let them remember while they 
read it, that it was goodness as w^ell as energy and 
abilitv which made our Washinorton's the first name 
in the world. In these days it is needful for all to 
study his character, and emulate it, that the republic 
of which he was the Father, may not be riven and 
destroyed. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 35 




CHAPTER II. 

OON after the peace of Paris, 1763, a 
new system for governing the British 
colonies, was adopted. One abridg- 
ment of their accustomed hberties fol- 
lowed another in such rapid succession, that 
in the short space of twelve years they had 
nothing left they could call their own. The 
British parhament, in which they were not 
represented, and over which they had no control, 
both claimed and exercised the power of taxing them 
at pleasure, and of binding them in all cases. 

Claims so opposed to the spirit of the British con- 
stitution, and which made such invidious distinctions 
between subjects residing on different sides of the 
Atlantic, excited a serious alarm among the colo- 
nists. Detached as they were from each other by 
local residence, and unconnected in their several le- 
gislatures, a sense of common danger made apparent 
to them the wisdom and propriety of forming a new 
representative body, composed of delegates from 



36 L I F E O F 

each colony, to take care of their common in- 
terests. 

With very little previous concert, such a body 
was formed and met in Philadelphia, in September, 
1774, and entered into the consideration of the 
grievances under which the people laboured. To 
this congress Virginia deputed seven of her most 
respectable citizens : Peyton Randolph, Richard 
Henry Lee, George Washington, Patrick Henry, 
Richard Bland, Benjamin Harrison, and Edmund Pen- 
dleton ; men who would have done honour to any 
age or country. They were appointed in like manner 
to attend a second congress on the 10th of May, in 
the following year. The historians of the revolution 
will detail with pride the proceedings of this assem- 
bly : the firmness with which they stated their griev- 
ances, and petitioned for redress ; the eloquence with 
which they appealed to the people of Great Britain, 
the inhabitants of Canada, and their own constitu- 
ents ; the judicious measures they adopted for ce- 
menting union at home, and procuring friends abroad. 
They will also state the unsuccessful termination of all 
plans proposed for preserving the union of the em- 
pire, and that Great Britain, proceeding from one 
oppression to another, threw the colonies out of her 
protection, made war upon them, and carried it on 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 61 

with a view to their subjugation. All these matters, 
together with the commencement of hostilities at 
Lexington, and the formation of an American army 
by the colony of Massachusetts, for defending them- 
selves against a royal army in Boston must here be 
passed over. Our business is only with George 
Washington. The fame he had acquired as com- 
mander of the Virginia forces, together with his 
well-known military talents, procured for him the 
distinguishing appellation of the Soldier of x^merica. 
Those who, before the commencement of hostihties, 
looked forward to war as the probable consequence 
of the disputes between Great Britain and her colo- 
nies, anticipated his appointment to the supreme 
command of the forces of his native country. 

An incident illustrative of his religious habits at 
this period of his life, is preserved on unquestinoable 
authority. During the session of Congress, a gen- 
tleman, residing in the city of Philadelphia, anxious 
to learn the chief of the strangers who had assem- 
bled from the several colonies, observed to Mr. Se- 
cretary Thompson, that he had heard much of Mr. 
Washington from Virginia, and would be glad to 
know how he could distinguish him. Mr. Thomp- 
son replied, "You can easily distinguish him when 
Congress goes to prayers — " Mr. Washington is the 



38 L I F E O F 

gentleman wJio kneels downy Thus, in the prime of 
life, did he, who was as noted for his modesty as for 
his merit, manifest to the world his sense of the 
overruhng providence of God. 

As long as he continued a member of Congress, 
he was chairman of every committee appointed to 
make arrangements for defence. These duties were 
soon superseded by more active employment in the 
field. As soon as Congress had determined on 
making a common cause with Massachusetts, against 
which a British army had commenced hostilities, 
they appointed, by an unanimous vote, George 
Washington, commander-in-chief of all the forces 
raised or to be raised for the defence of the colonies. 
His election was accompanied with no competition. 
The same general impulse on the public mind, which 
led the colonies to agree in many other particulars, 
pointed to him as the most proper person for presid- 
ing over their armies. 

To the president of Congress announcing this 
appointment, General Washington replied in the fol- 
lowing words : 

" Mr. President, 

" Though I am truly sensible of the high honour 
done me in this appointment, yet I feel great distress 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 39 

from a consciousness that my abilities and military 
experience may not be equal to the extensive and 
important trust. However, as the Congress desire 
it, I will enter upon the momentous duty, and exert 
every power I possess in their service, and for sup- 
port of the glorious cause. I beg they will accept 
my most cordial thanks, for this distinguished testi- 
mony of their approbation. 

" But lest some unlucky event should happen un- 
favourable to my reputation, I beg it may be remem- 
bered by every gentleman in the room, that I this 
day declare with the utmost sincerity, I do not think 
myself equal to the command I am honoured with. 

" As to pay, sir, I beg leave to assure the Congress 
that as no pecuniary consideration could have 
tempted me to accept this arduous employment, at 
the expense of my domestic ease and happiness, I 
do not wish to make any profit from it. I will keep 
an exact account of my expenses ; those I doubt not 
they will discharge, and that is all I desire." 

A special commission was made out for him, and 
at the same time an unanimous resolution was 
adopted by Congress, " that they would maintain 
and assist him, and adhere to him with their Jives 
and fortunes, for the maintenance and preservation 
of American Liberty." 



40 L I F E O F 

He immediately entered on the duties of his high 
station. After passing a few days in New York, 
and making some arrangements with Gen. Schuyler, 
who commanded there, he proceeded to Camhridge, 
which was the head-quarters of the American army. 
On his w^ay thither, he received from private persons 
and public bodies, the most flattering attention, and 
the strongest expressions of determination to sup- 
port him. He received an address from the Provin- 
cial Congress of New York, in which, after express- 
ing their approbation of his elevation to command, 
they say, " We have the fullest assurances, that 
whenever this important contest shall be decided by 
that fondest wish of each American soul, an accom- 
modation with our mother country, you will cheer- 
fully resign the important deposit committed into 
your hands, and reassume the character of our wor- 
thiest citizen." The General, after declaring his 
gratitude for the respect shown him, added, " Be 
assured that every exertion of my w^orthy colleagues 
and myself, will be extended to the re-establishment 
of peace and harmony between the mother country 
and these colonies. As to the fatal, but necessary 
operations of war, when we assumed the soldier we 
did not lay aside the citizen, and we shall most sin- 
cerely rejoice with you in that happy hour, when the 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 41 

reestablishment of American liberty, on the most 
firm and solid foundations, shall enable us to return 
to our private stations, in the bosom of a free, peace- 
ful, and happy country." 

A committee from the Massachusetts Congress 
received him at Springfield, about one hundred miles 
from Boston, and conducted him to the army. He 
was soon after addressed by the Congress of that 
colony in the most affectionate manner. In his an- 
swer, he said, " Gentlemen, your kind congratula- 
tions on ray appointment and arrival, demand my 
warmest acknowledgments, and will ever be retained 
in grateful remembrance. In exchanging the enjoy- 
ments of domestic life for the duties of my present 
honourable, but arduous station, I only emulate the 
virtue and public spirit of the whole province of 
Massachusetts, which, with a firmness and patriotism 
without example, has sacrificed all the comforts of 
social and political life in support of the rights of 
mankind, and the welfare of our common country. 
My highest abmition is to be the happy instrument 
of vindicating these rights, and to see this devoted 
province again restored to peace, Hberty and safety." 
When Gen.Washington arrived at Cambridge he was 
received with the joyful acclamations of the Ameri- 
can army. At the head of his troops, he published 



42 L I F E O F 

a declaration previously drawn up by Congress, in 
the nature of a manifesto, setting forth the reasons 
for taking up arms. In this, after enumerating va- 
rious grievances of the colonies, and vindicating 
them from a premeditated design of establishing in- 
dependent states, it was added, " In our own native 
land, in defence of the freedom which is our birth- 
right, and which we never enjoyed till the late viola- 
tion of it ; for the protection of our property, ac- 
quired solely by the industry of our forefathers and 
ourselves, against violence actually offered ; we have 
taken up arms : we shall lay them down when hos- 
tilities shall cease on the part of the aggressors, and 
all danger of their being renewed shall be removed, 
and not before." 

When Washington joined the army he found the 
British strongly entrenched on Bunker Hill. The 
American army had been assembled from different 
colonies. It was without discipline, and was com- 
posed of most discordant materials. He commenced 
immediately the difficult task of bringing the men 
into proper order. Their hands, which had been 
only used to felling trees, striking the anvil, guiding 
the plough, or to other peaceful and useful employ- 
ments, could not readily handle well a musket or a 
sword. They knew nothing of the discipline that 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 



43 



was needful to make them good soldiers. They 
resolved to defend their rights, but this spirit of free- 
dom caused them to wish to do so in their own way, 
and as they were not wilhng to submit to rules and 
directions, the patience of their commander was 
often severely tried. He had naturally a strong 
temper, but in his boyhood he had determined to 
watch and subdue it. When any occurrence raised 
his anger, he resolutely endeavoured to restrain it. 
He knew that he could not command others so as 
to have their respect, if by the indulgence of pas- 
sion he proved that he could not command himself. 
In addition to the difficulty of regulating the army, 
he had the anxiety of knowing that they were very 
scantily supplied with powder and arms, as there 
was very little powder in the country, and the inha- 
bitants of the different provinces did not wish to 
part with what they thought they might want to use 
for their own particular defence. Washington was 
very anxious to conceal this deficiency from the En- 
glish generals, and used every means possible to do 
so. His army was placed so as to blockade the En- 
glish troops, who were stationed on Bunker's Hill, 
Roxbury Neck, and in Boston. Knowing as he did 
the difficulty there would be in getting supplies for 
his men, ke wished to make an attempt to drive the 



44 L I F E O F 

enemy from Boston at once ; but his officers on being 
consulted, were of the opinion that the attempt 
would not be successful, and the two armies con- 
tinued in the same situation for several months. 

As it was known that the English were endeav- 
ouring to engage the inhabitants of Canada, and the 
Indians, to assist them in invading the provinces 
from that part of the country. Congress sent troops 
there, who took possession of several forts. Wash- 
ington resolved to send a detachment from his army 
to Quebec, and he gave the command of it to Colo- 
nel Arnold. The orders given to him were, to pass 
through the country, not as an enemy to the inha- 
bitants of Canada, but as friends, and to check with 
severity every attempt to injure them ; and to treat 
with respect their religious ceremonies: for, said 
Washington, " while we are contending for our own 
hberty, we should be very cautious of violating the 
rights of conscience in others, and should ever con- 
sider, with a true Christian spirit, that God alone is 
the judge of the hearts of men, and to him only in 
this case are they answerable." Arnold and his 
troops were thirty-two days passing through a fright- 
ful wilderness, without seeing a house or a human 
being ; they waded through swamps and toiled over 
mountains, and arrived at Quebec worn down with 



GEORGEWASHINGTON. 45 

fatigue. Arnold expected to take Quebec by sur- 
prise, but information had been given of his ap- 
proach, so that he was disappointed. General Mont- 
gomery, who had taken Montreal from the Enghsh, 
marched to join Arnold, and then endeavoured to 
prevail on the commander of Quebec to give it up 
without blood being shed ; but the officer he sent 
with a flag of truce was fired on, and he then deter- 
mined on attacking the town. The attack was bold 
but not successful, and in making it the brave Mont- 
gomery lost his life. The blockade of Quebea was 
continued for some time without eflect, and, on hear- 
ing that an English fleet had arrived, the American 
officers concluded that it would be vain to expect 
success, and gave up the siege. Several engage- 
ments convinced the Americans that their force was 
not sufficient to accomplish in Canada what they 
had expected ; and the officers determined on retreat- 
ing from it, before their men should be more reduced 
by unavailing sufferings. 

At the time of these occurrences in the north, the 
southern provinces were not quiet. The governor 
of Virginia, assisted by ships of war, attempted to 
burn the town of Hampton, but he was prevented by 
the bravery of the people. He then collected his 
force at Norfolk. An American regiment of regu- 



46 L 1 F E O F 

lars, and two hundred minute men, marched for the 
defence of that place ; they were attacked by the 
Enghsh, whom they soon forced to retreat, with the 
loss of many of their number, though the Ameri- 
cans did not lose one man. The governor took 
refuge on board of a vessel ; and on the night of the 
first of January, 1776, a heavy cannonade was com- 
menced on the town from the ships, and some of the 
troops landed and set fire to the houses. As the 
Americans did not think that they could keep pos- 
session of Norfolk against the force of an English 
fleet, they made no efforts to extinguish the flames, 
but suffered them to rage until the town was con- 
sumed. After this the governor continued saihng 
up the rivers of Virginia for some time, burning 
houses and destroying plantations. A number of 
the inhabitants of the frontiers of the southern pro- 
vinces, were inchned to favour the English, and 
formed themselves mto companies ; but they were 
met by the provincial parties, and obliged to fly in 
every direction. The governor of North Carolina 
had gone aboard of a ship of war in the Cape Fear 
river. General Clinton, who was to command the 
English in the south, arrived in North Carolina, with 
a small force ; but he did not think it prudent to use 
it there, and determined on going to Charleston, in 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 47 

South Carolina. This intention was discovered, and 
all ranks of citizens began immediately to prepare 
for defence. A new fort, afterwards called Fort 
Moultrie, in honour of its commander, was quickly 
built on Sullivan's Island, which is at the mouth of 
the harbour. In the beginning of June, the British 
fleet anchored off the harbour of Charleston. Some 
American troops arrived from Virginia and North 
Carolina, and they were all commanded by General 
Lee. The streets of the city were barricaded ; 
store-houses of great value were pulled down, and 
every possible means for defence were prepared. 
The English fleet was commanded by Sir Peter Par- 
ker, and consisted of two fifty-gun ships, four frigates, 
and .four smaller armed vessels. On the 28th of 
June, they commenced firing on Fort Moultrie, at 
about 10 o'clock in the morning, and continued to do 
so for three hours ; but the firing was returned from 
the fort with so much skill, that the ships were almost 
torn to pieces, and about 9 o'clock, with difficulty 
were moved oflT. The loss of the British in killed 
and wounded, exceeded two hundred ; while that of 
the Americans was only ten killed and twenty-two 
wounded. 

Thus did a feeble force of 375 regulars, and a few 
mihtia, in a half-finished fort, defeat, with httle loss 



48 L I F E O F 

to themselves, a powerful and well-commanded fleet. 
A few days afterwards, all the English troops who 
had been landed, returned to the vessels, and the 
whole fleet sailed away for New York ; and the state 
of South Carolina was, for that time, delivered from 
the ravages of a foreign army. 

This success given the Americans in the south, 
encouraged them greatly, and cheered the anxious 
mind of Washington, when he was distressed by the 
unfavourable accounts from the north. His army 
had been very much changed during the winter; 
many of the men had returned to their homes, and 
new recruits had taken their places ; so that he was 
constantly obliged to bear the trial of patience in 
his endeavour to have a regular force. He was still 
of opinion, that an attempt to drive the enemy from 
Boston would be successful; in writing to Congress 
on the subject, he said, " I cannot help acknowledg- 
ing, that I have many disagreeable sensations on 
account of my situation ; for to have the eyes of the 
whole continent fixed on me, with anxious expecta- 
tion of hearing of some great event, and to be re- 
strained in every military operation, for want of the 
necessary means to carry it on, is not very pleasing; 
especially as the means used to conceal my weak- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 49 

ness from the enemy conceal it also from our friends, 
and add to their wonder." 

Towards the latter end of February, having re- 
ceived a fresh supply of powder, he resolved on at- 
tempting to force General Howe from Boston, and 
commenced an attack early in March; a considera- 
ble detachment of Americans took possession of the 
heights of Dorchester, and in one night, though the 
ground was frozen, raised works, which in a great 
degree covered them from the shot of the enemy. 
It was then necessary for the English, either to drive 
the Americans from those heights, or to leave the 
town; the former was determined on, and troops 
were put on board of the ships to proceed down the 
bay for that purpose. They were not, however, 
allowed to succeed, for they were scattered by a 
violent storm, and entirely disabled from proceeding ; 
and before they could be ready again to make the 
attempt, the Americans had made their works of de- 
fence so strong, that it was thought useless to try 
to force them. In expectation that most of the 
troops would be engaged in this attack. General 
Washington had made preparations for attacking 
those that remained in Boston; but this plan was 
disappointed by the English general determining on 
leaving it, when he saw that the Dorchester heights 

D 



50 L I F E O F 

could not be taken. When General Washington knew 
of the intentions of General Howe, he thought it 
most probable that he would go from Boston to New- 
York, and therefore sent a large portion of his army 
there immediately. 

On the 17th of March the English entered their 
ships, and soon the whole fleet sailed. The rest of 
the American army then marched to New York. 
The recovery of Boston caused great joy. When 
Washington entered it, he was received by the in- 
habitants as their deliverer from oppression ; and in 
their public address to him, they expressed the wish 
he might " still go on, approved by Heaven, and re- 
vered by all good men." The fleet sailed to Hali- 
fax, remained there until June, then left it, and early 
in July landed the troops on Staten Island. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 51 




CHAPTER III. 

HE revolutionary war afforded few 
very striking events compared with 
those of some European contests. It 
was a long and arduous struggle, be- 
tween her feeble colonies and the most power- 
ful of nations, in which only the greatest genius, 
guided by patriotism, and supported by the pub- 
he enthusiasm, could have triumphed. 
On the evacuation of Boston, by the British, Ge- 
neral Washington immediately left his position at 
Cambridge, for New York, where, after many diffi- 
culties, he arrived in the month of April, 1776. 
There he received a letter from the President of 
Congress conveying the thanks of that body to him- 
self and his army, for their conduct at the siege of 
Boston. He replied with his usual modest manli- 
ness — " I beg you," he says, " to assure them, that 
it will ever be my highest ambition to approve my- 
self a faithful servant of the public ; and that to be 



52 L I F E O F 

in any degree instrumental in procuring for my 
American brethren a restitution of their just rights 
and privileges will constitute my chief happiness." 
Speaking of having communicated the thanks of 
Congress to the army, he adds, " They were indeed 
at first a band of undisciphned husbandmen, but it 
is, under God, to their bravery and attention to their 
duty, that I am indebted for that success which has 
procured me the only reward I wish to receive, the 
affection and esteem of my countrymen." 

He found New York ill-prepared for defence in 
the event of General Howe's directing his operations 
to that quarter. The state troops were deficient in 
arms, and many of the citizens as much so in 
patriotism. Owing to various causes, the tory influ- 
ence was strong in that quarter. A considerable 
number of British troops were always stationed in 
New York ; the officers had many of them inter- 
married with the most influential families of the 
province ; and a number of the proprietors of the 
largest estates were devoted loyalists. Add to this, 
the Asia, man-of-war, lay opposite the city for some 
time, having it entirely at her mercy, and the com- 
mander threatening destruction in case of any overt 
act of opposition to the royal government. 

These and other causes damped the efforts of the 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 53 

whigs, and delayed decisive measures of defence. 
But the body of the people finally obtained the as- 
cendency over their disaffected opponents, and aided 
by a body of troops from Connecticut, under Gene- 
ral Lee, maintained possession of the city in defiance 
of the threats of the commander of the Asia. That 
officer declared that if any troops came into the 
city, he would set it on fire ; and Lee replied, " that 
if he set fire to a single house in consequence of his 
coming, he would chain a hundred tories together 
by the neck, and make that house their funeral pile." 

The possession of New York, the key to the 
Hudson, which forms the geographical line of sepa- 
ration between New England and the South, and is, 
moreover, the most direct route to and from Canada, 
was deemed an object of the first importance. Ac- 
cordingly, Washington used his utmost efforts to 
place it in the best possible state of defence. i\t 
his recommendation. Congress authorized the con- 
struction of such a number of rafts calculated to 
act as a sort of fire-ships, armed boats, row-galleys, 
and floating batteries, as were deemed necessary to 
the command of the port and river. They likewise 
voted the employment of thirteen thousand militia, 
to reinforce the main army under Washington. 

Until now the Americans had been contendino: for 



54 L I F E O F 

their rights as subjects of England ; but the time 
had arrived when the contest was to assume a dif- 
ferent character. An event was at hand w hich was 
to change the relations between the mother country 
and her colonies, and separate their future destinies 
for ever. The assertion of rights had produced the 
desire of independence. To the more sagacious of 
that great and illustrious body of men which com- 
posed the first Congress, it gradually became evident 
that, though the ancient relations of the tw^o coun- 
tries might perhaps be revived for a time, there 
never could in future subsist that cordiality which 
was indispensable to their mutual interests and hap- 
piness. Blood had been shed ; bitter invectives and 
biting insults had been exchanged ; injuries never to 
be forgotten, and outrages not to be forgiven, had 
been suffered ; and the filial piety of the children 
had been turned into hatred of the tyranny of the 
parent. 

They saw, too, that were England to relinquish 
her claim to parliamentary supremacy for the present, 
there would be no security for the future. The colo- 
nies would be left as before, equally exposed to a 
revival and enforcement of the obnoxious claim of 
taxation without representation. Union could no 
longer subsist compatibly with the mutual happiness 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 55 

of the two parties, and a separation became the only 
security against eternal family strife. The lofty 
pride of patriotism, which disdains to wear the yoke 
even of those we have been accustomed to rever- 
ence, when it presses too heavily, came in aid of 
these considerations, and enforced the only just and 
rational conclusions. 

Actuated by these motives, on the 7th of June, 
1776, Richard Henry Lee moved in Congress that 
a declaration of independence should be adopted. 
Three days after the question was postponed to the 
first of July ; but in the mean time, Thomas Jeffer- 
son, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, Roger Sher- 
man, and Robert R. Livingston, were appointed a 
committee to draft the proposed declaration. The 
day being come, the subject was taken up, the de- 
claration read, and the most important question that 
ever arose in this country settled for ever, by the 
adoption of that Declaration of Independence which 
has become the political law of all who love and 
strive for the maintenance or recovery of their 
rights. 

Soon after Independence was declared, the brother 
of General Howe arrived at Staten Island, with a 
large fleet, and a number of regiments. General 
Washington had made preparations for defending 



56 L I F E O F 

New York ; but was convinced that he could not 
prevent the English ships from passing up the Hud- 
son. While he was busily engaged, letters were 
sent from the commander of the fleet, to the govern- 
ors under the king, requesting them to make known 
to the people that he had authority to grant pardons 
to all who would return to their duty ; and that every 
person who would aid in persuading them to do so, 
should be rewarded. Washington sent these papers 
immediately to Congress, who resolved to publish 
them. At the same time. General Howe sent an 
officer with a flag of truce, and a letter addressed to 
" George Washington, Esquire." He refused to 
receive it, as he considered it a disrespect to his 
countrymen, who had given him the title of " Com- 
mander-in-chief" of their armies. Another letter 
was sent, directed to George Washington, &c. &c. 
&c., and the officer who brought it said that the ad- 
dition of " &c. &c. &c." meant every thing that 
ought to follow the name. Washington said " they 
meant every thing, it was true, but they also might 
mean any thing ;" and he would not receive a letter 
on public business, if directed to him as a private 
person. The officer assured him no disrespect was 
intended, and that General Howe and his brother 
had been appointed by the king to " settle the un- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 57 

happy dispute which had arisen." Washington told 
him that he had no power from Congress to say any 
thing on that subject ; but, from what he could learn, 
it was his opinion that General Howe and his brother 
were authorized only to grant pardons, and " those 
who had committed no fault, wanted no pardon." 

The English army consisted of about twenty-four 
thousand men ; it was abundantly supplied with 
military stores, and a numerous fleet was ready to 
aid it. The American army, of about thirteen thou- 
sand men, for three different situations, was poorly 
armed. Washington endeavoured to encourage his 
troops ; he said, " the time is perhaps near at hand, 
which will determine whether Americans are to be 
freemen. The fate of unknown millions will depend, 
under God, on the courage and conduct of this 
army. Let us rely on the goodness of our cause, 
and the aid of the Supreme Being, in whose hands 
victory is, to animate and encourage us to great and 
noble actions." 

General Howe landed on Long Island on the 22d 
July, and Washington prepared for an attack ; a de- 
tachment which had been stationed to give notice 
of the approach of the enemy, was surrounded and 
captured ; and this gave the English an advantage 



58 L I F E O F 

in their assault, which was made with so large 
a force, and in so many different directions, that 
it was not in the power of the Americans to 
resist with success, though they did so with bra- 
very. Washington passed over to Brooklyn, and 
saw, with regret, the destruction of his troops. He 
had no power to aid them in any other way than by 
his own exertions ; for he saw that if he brought 
over the rest of his troops from New York, the su- 
perior force of the enemy would overpower them all, 
and thus the fate of the country at once be decided. 
The EngHsh encamped in front of the remaining 
Americans, and Washington determined on an effort 
to save them by a withdrawal from Long Island. He 
formed his plan, and when the night of the twenty- 
eighth came, all the troops and military stores, with 
a great part of the provisions, and all the artillery, 
were carried over to New York in safety. Providence 
favoured the Americans with a night so dark, and a 
morning so foggy, that though their enemies were 
within a few hundred yards of them, they did not 
know of the movement w hich was being made, until 
they were beyond the reach of their guns. From 
the commencement of the action, on the morning 
of the 27th of July, until the troops had crossed 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 59 

safely, on the 29th, their commander had not slept. 
He did not think of his own preservation until the 
last boat was leaving the shore, when he placed him- 
self in it, with a sad spirit. The affair of Long 
Island discouraged the Americans so much, that 
Washington had to suffer the pain of seeing 
whole regiments return in despair to their homes. 

From the movements of the English, Washington 
found it was their intention to surround New York, 
and force him into a battle. The depressed state 
of the army convinced him that this would be dis- 
astrous, and he determined to withdraw toward 
Philadelphia. 

When the American troops left the city, they pro- 
ceeded to the upper part of the island, and the enemy 
immediately afterward took possession. Lord Howe 
followed up his advantage by opening a negotiation 
for peace. General Sullivan, who had been made 
prisoner at the battle, was sent on his parole to Phi- 
ladelphia, with a message desiring a conference on 
the part of the British commander with some of the 
members of Congress, as he could not treat with it 
as a body. After some hesitation this proposal was 
acceded to, and Franklin, Adams, and Rutledge de- 
puted to receive the communication alluded to in 



60 L I F E O F 

the message of General Sullivan. Without entering 
on the particulars of the conference, it will be suffi- 
cient to say that it proved entirely abortive. The 
republicans refused to be pardoned, and the royalist 
general having nothing else to ofier, expressed his 
regrets, and ended the discussion. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 61 



CHAPTER IV. 



FTER the evacuation of New York, 
which became indispensable in con- 
sequence of the operations of the Brit- 
ish, on the 15th of September, Wash- 
ington withdrew to Kingsbridge, a few miles 
above the city, and soon after to White Plains, 
where a slight engagement took place, in 
which a portion of the Americans were dri- 
ven from their station. He then changed his 
position for another, and Howe, thinking this too 
strong to be attacked with prudence, retreated down 
North River, with a view to invest Fort Washing- 
ton, on York Island, which, being only an embank- 
ment of earth, was surrendered after a sharp but 
short resistance, with three thousand prisoners. Our 
army was thus rapidly diminishing, while that of the 
royalists had been increased by a reinforcement of 
five thousand Hessians and Waldeckers. Wash- 




62 L I F E O F 

ington marched his forces over into New Jersey, leav- 
ing the British entire masters in New York. Terror 
and dismay overspread the whole country. The 
tories every day grew more bold and insolent; the 
whigs began to despair of their cause ; the neutrals 
turned partisans against their country, and the enemy 
became arrogant with success. 

After vainly attempting to oppose the English, now 
commanded by Cornwallis, at Brunswick, Washing- 
ton retreated to Trenton, where he determined to 
remain till the last moment, having first passed his 
stores to the other side of the Delaware, in Penn- 
sylvania. He wished to accustom his troops to the 
sight of the enemy, and hoped that in the boldness 
of success, Cornwallis might afford him an opportu- 
nity of striking a blow. At this time his cavalry 
consisted of a single corps of Connecticut militia; 
he was almost destitute of artillery ; and his army 
amounted to but three thousand men. One third 
of these were New Jersey militia, and the time of 
many of the others was about to expire. Supported 
and animated by a sense of justice, however, a hand- 
ful of barefooted soldiers, marching on the frozen 
ground of an American winter, and tracked by their 
enemies by their blood on the snow, was soon to 
astonish the country by its achievements. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 63 

General Howe now issued a proclamation, offer- 
ing pardon to all who, within sixty days, appeared 
before officers of his appointment, and signified their 
submission to the royal authority. Despairing of 
the cause, or perhaps secretly disaffected, many 
availed themselves of his amnesty, and an opinion 
prevailed among all classes, that a longer contest for 
independence was hopeless and impossible. But 
Washington never despaired. While in the full tide 
of retreat, General Reed is said to have exclaimed, 
" My God ! General Washington, how long shall we 
fly?" "Why, sir," repfied Washington, "we will 
retreat, if necessary, over every river of our country, 
and then over the mountains, where I will make a 
last stand against the enemies of my country." 

Cornwallis remained inactive at Brunswick, leav- 
ing Washington a few days of leisure, which he 
employed with his usual industry in making prepara- 
tions for the ensuing campaign. He urged congress, 
as well as the governors of the different states, by 
every motive of patriotism, to take measures for the 
safety of the country, and the success of its cause ; 
and, while stimulating others, himself set the exam- 
ple which he commended. 

The citizens embodied themselves with alacrity, 
and fifteen hundred joined him at Trenton. Thus 



64 L I F E O F 

reinforced, he moved in a direction towards the 
enemy, then at Brunswick. On his way, how- 
ever, learning that Cornwalhs was advancing by 
different routes with a view^ to gain his rear, and cut 
him off from the Delaware, he changed his purpose 
and crossed to the west side of the river, so oppor- 
tunely that the enemy came in sight at the moment. 
The two armies now remained opposite each 
other on the different banks. The object of Corn- 
walhs was to cross over, and either force Wash- 
ington to fight, or, if he retreated, to gain posses- 
sion of Philadelphia ; while that of Washington was 
to prevent the enemy from crossing the Delaware. 
While thus situated. General Charles Lee, who had 
been repeatedly urged by Washington to join him 
as speedily as possible, imprudently slept in a farm- 
house at a distance of three miles from his command, 
and about twenty miles from the enemy. Infor- 
mation of this was given, and an English officer 
sent, with a company, well mounted, who reached 
the house and surrounded it before General Lee 
was awake. He was carried to the English camp, 
and considered as a deserter from the British ser- 
vice. General Sullivan, the next in command, 
immediately hastened the march of the troops, 
and soon joined General Washington. All the at- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. . 65 

tempts of the English to get boats to cross the river 
failed, and their general determined to place them 
in quarters for the winter, which had commenced. 
Some were placed in Princeton,, and the rest at the 
principal towns of that part of New Jersey. 

The invading army, to use the words of Wash- 
ington, was increasing like a snowball, by the arrival 
of new reinforcements and the accession of the dis- 
affected, while his own was inferior in numbers, and, 
as usual, deficient in all the necessary requisites for 
efficient action. The ice would soon form in the 
Delaware, and the British general might avail him- 
self of it to cross the river and take possession of 
Philadelphia, for there was no force capable of pre- 
venting him. Such an event, by further depressing 
the lingering hopes of the patriots, would increase 
the obstacles to recruiting his army, now almost in- 
surmountable. 

When Washington reflected on the dispersed sit- 
uation of the English troops, he said, " Now is the 
time to clip their wings." Urged on by the neces- 
sity of striking a blow that might awaken the ener- 
gies, and revive the hopes of his country, he formed 
the design of attacking the enemy at the moment 
he was lulled in the lap of security, waiting for the 
freezing of the river. 



Q6 L I F E O F 

The design was executed, so far as the elements 
would permit, with success. The night was dark 
as pitch; the north-east wind whistled along the 
shores of the Delaware, laden with freezing sleet, 
and the broken ice came crashing down the stream 
in masses that, as they encountered the rocks above, 
shivered into fragments, with a noise that might be 
heard for many miles. Neither man nor beast was 
out that night, and the enemy on the opposite shore 
souijht shelter in the houses of the citizens of Tren- 
ton from the storm. Bnt Washington was active. 
In the dead of the night, the boats were launched 
on the river, and after incredible exertions they 
reached the opposite shore. Without waiting a 
moment to learn the fate of the other two divisions, 
which were to co-operate in this daring adventure, 
he pressed forward towards the foe, and the dawn 
saw him before Trenton. The guard had no time 
to fire, so impetuous and unexpected was the attack ; 
they retreated to where Colonel Ralle, the English 
commander, had drawn up his men. That officer 
soon fell mortally wounded, and his troops retreated. 
Washington advanced upon them, throwing at the 
same time a detachment in their front, when, seeing 
themselves surrounded, they laid down their arms, 
and surrendered at discretion. A thousand prison- 




WASHINGTON CROSSING THE DELAWARE. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 67 

ers, with their arms, and six field-pieces, were cap- 
tured on this occasion, with the loss of two Ameri- 
cans frozen to death, two killed, and a single officer 
wounded — James Monroe, who afterwards succeeded 
Washington as President of the republic for whose 
liberties they were there contending together. 

The divisions of the American army which were 
commanded by Generals Irvine and Cadwallader, 
had not been able to cross the river amid the drivino^ 
ice ; and as that part of the plan which they were 
to perform failed, Washington concluded it would 
not be prudent to remain with his small force where 
he should probably be soon attacked by the collected 
force of his enemies ; he therefore crossed the Dela- 
ware with his prisoners, and the military stores he 
had taken. 

This bold and successful action occasioned ^reat 
astonishment in the Enghsh army, as they had be- 
lieved the Americans to be in a condition too feeble 
to attempt resistance, even when it should suit their 
enemies to leave their comfortable quarters to attack 
them. Cornwallis had gone to New York, but he 
returned immediately to New Jersey, to regain the 
ground which had been thus unexpectedly lost. 

Washington resolved not to remain idle, and he 
passed over the river to endeavour to recover at 



68 LIFE OF 

least a part of New Jersey. The English assembled 
at Princeton, and formed there some works of de- 
fence. Washington collected all his troops at Tren- 
ton. The next day the English approached. He then 
crossed the Assumpink creek, which runs through 
the town, and drew up his army beside it. The 
enemy attempted to cross it, but were prevented, 
and they halted and kindled their night-fires. 

The situation of Washington became very critical. 
If he remained inactive, he was confident of being 
attacked, at the dawn of day, by a force far supe- 
rior to his own ; he thought the destruction of his 
little army must be the consequence ; and to pass the 
Delaware was almost impracticable from masses of 
drifting ice. 

In this situation he resolved once more to baffle 
the enemy by becoming the assailant. The van of 
the troops under Cornwallis had taken possession of 
Trenton, and the two armies had nothing but the 
Assumpink, a stream scarcely thirty yards wide, be- 
tween them. Tradition has preserved the story that 
Sir William Erskine urged Cornwalhs to an imme- 
diate attack. It is thus related by Mr. Paulding : 

" Now is the time," said he, " to make sure of 
Washington." 

" Our troops are hungry and tired," replied the 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 69 

other. " He and his tatterdamalions are now in my 
power. They cannot escape to-night, for the ice of 
the Delaware will neither bear their weight, nor ad- 
mit of the passage of boats. To-morrow, at break 
of day, I will attack them, and the rising sun shall 
see the end of rebellion." 

"My lord," replied Sir William, "Washington 
will not be there at daybreak to-morrow." 

The rising sun saw Washington at Princeton, and 
the British at Trenton heard the echoes of his can- 
non amid the frosts of the wintry morning. After 
replenishing his fires to deceive the enemy, he had 
departed with his usual quiet celerity, and marched 
upon Princeton, where three British regiments were 
posted in fancied security, not dreaming of his ap- 
proach. Though surprised, the enemy made a gal- 
lant defence, and he who had so Ions: and so often 
been the shield of his country, now became its sword. 
His capacious and unerring mind again saw that 
another moment had come, on which hung the des- 
tinies of his beloved country. The cause of freedom 
was on the brink of a precipice, from which, if it fell, 
it might never rise again. 

The British force was met in full march towards 
Trenton. On perceiving the advanced guard of the 
Americans, they faced about, and repassing a small 



70 L I F E O F 

Stream, advanced under cover of a wood. A short 
but sharp action ensued ; the militia soon fled, and 
the small body of regulars, being far overmatched, 
was broken. At this critical moment, Washington 
came up with the corps under his command, and re- 
newed the action. Seeing at a glance that all was 
now at stake, and would be lost by defeat, he became 
inspired with that spirit which always most animates 
courage and genius in the hour of peril. He snatched 
a standard, and calhng on his soldiers to come to 
the rescue, dashed into the midst of the enemy. Ani- 
mated by his words, and still more by his example, 
they backed him bravely. The British cried, " God 
save the king," and the republicans shouted, " God 
save Georo^e Washington." After a severe contest 
the British broke and fled. One hundred and twenty 
killed, and three hundred prisoners, were lost by the 
enemy, and the Americans lost sixty-three. The 
name of General Mercer, who fell early in the ac- 
tion, is alone bequeathed to posterity. An officer 
writing an account of the battle, said, " I would wish 
to say a few words respecting the actions of that 
truly great man. General Washington, but it is not 
in my power to convey any just ideas of him. I 
shall never forget what I felt when I saw him brave 
all the dangers of the field, his important life hang- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 71 

ing as it were by a single thread, with a thousand 
deaths flying around him. I thought not of myself. 
He is surely Heaven's peculiar care." 

The British troops at Trenton had been under 
arms, and about to attack the Americans by the 
early dawn ; but when it came, they discovered that 
the whole force, with their baggage and stores, had 
withdrawn ; and they soon heard the sound of their 
cannon at Princeton, which, though in the midst of 
winter, they supposed to be thunder. 

The unexpected and successful attacks made at 
Trenton and Princeton, by an army that was thought 
to be conquered, saved Philadelphia for that winter ; 
and revived the spirits of the Americans so much, 
that the difficulty of raising troops for the next sea- 
son was lessened in all the states. 

In compliance with the advice of Washington, 
Congress had resolved to enhst soldiers who would 
consent to serve while the war continued. When 
the American army had retreated through New Jer- 
sey, the inhabitants were so sure of destruction, that 
they thought it would be useless to make any at- 
tempt to defend themselves ; but after these successes 
they collected in large companies, and the militia 
became very active in assisting to confine the Eng- 
lish to Amboy and New Brunswick, where they were 



72 LIFE OF 

Stationed when Washington led his army to Morris- 
town. 

During the season of deep gloom which had over- 
spread the United States, when the hearts of all 
were tried, he who bore the greatest responsibility, 
felt most keenly the position of affairs. Governor 
Brooks of Massachusetts, then an aid to Washing- 
ton, came to him from a tour of duty in his own 
state. He found him deeply affected, and as he 
talked of the condition of his troops, and of the 
country, he shed tears. " Sir," said he, " my hope 
is in God only. Go back to Massachusetts, and do 
what you can to raise men and money." From the 
midst of darkness came a light that cheered all 
hearts. The drooping spirits of the nation were 
revived. 

While the Americans were in Morristown, their 
number was so small, that it was difficult to keep up 
the appearance of an army ; but Washington sent 
out small detachments to show themselves in differ- 
ent directions; and with the assistance of the New 
Jersey militia he succeeded in keeping the enemy 
from again overspreading the country. As the 
spring advanced, and new troops were raised, there 
was a difficulty in assembling them as he wished ; 
for the English had possession of the sea; they 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 73 

could attack any part of the Union ; and each state 
desired to be defended. This could not be done, 
without separating the troops into small divisions, 
and placing them at a distance from each other. 
Washington was able to make the best use of small 
means ; and he determined to prepare in the surest 
manner for defending the eastern states, the high- 
lands of New York — where it was very important to 
preserve the forts — and Philadelphia, the possession 
of which seemed to be the object of Cornwallis. 
When he had arranged troops for this purpose, he 
formed his own camp at Middlebrook, in New Jer- 
sey, with not quite six thousand men. 

Early in June, the English army was increased by 
arrivals from New York, and the commander 
marched them in different directions, for the purpose 
of drawing Washington from his camp; but he was 
too wise to be led into the field, which would have 
been the scene of almost certain destruction to his 
small army. He continued watching the movements 
of the enemy with anxiety. • Sometimes they ap- 
peared as if intending to go to the north, and then 
moved towards the south. He kept his troops in 
front of his camp, always ready for an attack. He 
wrote to General Arnold his opinion, that it was the 
intention of the enemy to get possession of Phila- 



74 L I F E O F 

delphia, but that if they moved, he would follow 
after, and do every thing in his power to delay them. 
General Howe, finding that he could not draw 
Washington from his camp, determined on taking 
his army on board of the fleet to the Chesapeake or 
Delaware. Washington took advantage of this by 
following the enemy cautiously. They had passed 
over to Staten Island, but their commander suddenly 
resolved on returning to get possession of the situa- 
tion Washington left, but he immediately moved 
back, and prevented the success of this plan. The 
whole English army then crossed to Staten Island, 
and went on board the fleet. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 



75 



CHAPTER V. 




HE campaign of 1777 opened gloomily. 
A better spirit had indeed been awak- 
ened by the admirable generalship of 
Washington, and the confidence in his 
abihty and patriotism had become more deep 
and universal. But his army was inefficient in 
numbers and discipline, and was wretchedly 
provided with clothing, arms, and munitions. 
At the same time Burgoyne, in high spirits, was ad- 
vancing with ten thousand men from Canada, and 
Howe, with twice that number, was preparing for 
an attack on Philadelphia. 

At this period the young and gallant Lafayette — 
whose name was destined to become the second only 
in two continents — first associated himself with 
Washington. In August, General Howe landed at 
the mouth of Elk River, at the head of Chesapeake 
Bay, and proceeded without interruption to the Bran- 
dywine. Here Washington determined to make an 



76 LIFE OF 

effort to save the capital of Pennsylvania. The 
consequence was a defeat of our army, which re- 
treated, and was followed by the enemy, who suc- 
ceeded in taking possession of the city. Lafayette 
shed his first blood on the banks of the Brandy wine, 
and there first wrote his name in history. 

The possession of Philadelphia was not to be 
easily or quietly maintained. Various reinforce- 
ments placed Washington at the head of nearly as 
large an army as that of Howe, toward whom he 
determined to act at once offensively. A large por- 
tion of the British force was in Philadelphia, whence 
the line of encampment extended through German- 
town, a long straggling village, consisting principally 
of stone houses, stretching on either side of the 
road for nearly two miles. In this situation, it ap- 
peared to Washington that so much of the enemy 
as was at this village, might be surprised and cut off, 
and he promptly resolved on the undertaking. At 
seven in the evening of the 4th of October, the 
Americans moved from their encampment, and just 
at the dawn of the morning, a division under Gene- 
ral Sullivan encountered and drove in the outposts 
of the enemy. SuUivan was quickly followed by the 
main body, which immediately entered into action, 
but it was more than half an hour before the left 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 77 

wing came up. Each of these parties was success- 
ful in breaking the enenny ; but Lieutenant-Colonel 
Mulgrave, with a small body of British, having taken 
possession of the strong stone edifice, known as 
Chew's House, annoyed the Americans so much by 
his fire that they stopped to dislodge him. The time 
lost in this attempt, which was unsuccessful at last, 
was a serious disadvantage. The ground, too, was 
difficult, and the obscurity of the morning prevented 
Washington from seeing distinctly what was going 
forward. The united action of the different parties 
was broken ; the delay in attacking the stone house, 
and various accidents, impeded the attack. The 
enemy rallied, and became the assailants. The bri- 
gade under General Greene, after a sharp encounter, 
was broken ; the right wing faltered ; the division 
of Wayne, in falling back on its friends, was mis- 
taken for the enemy, and confiision became gene- 
ral. Washington, perceiving that all hope of suc- 
cess was lost for that time, yielded to the disappoint- 
ment of his hopes, and retired from the field about 
twenty miles, and halted at Perkiomen Creek, where, 
receiving a fresh reinforcement, he turned, and re- 
sumed his former position in the vicinity of the city. 
The fleet which landed General Howe and his 
army at the head of the Chesapeake, had afterwards 



78 L I F E O F 

entered the capes of Delaware, and sailed up that 
river for the purpose of aiding the operations of the 
land forces. 

The army under the command of Washington, 
though directed with skill and courage, was insuffi- 
cient to produce any but partial and temporary suc- 
cesses. Inferior in numbers and in discipline, his 
triumphs consisted in delaying the operations of the 
enemy, rather than preparing the way for his own. 
That, during successive years of defensive war, 
under every circumstance of discouragement, he 
saved his army and the country from ruin, was 
more honourable than gaining victories and con- 
quering nations with superior means. 

In the mean time the war raged furiously in the 
north and in the south. The Green Mountaineers, 
seizing their rifles, rallied in defence of their coun- 
try. The first check given to the triumphant Bur- 
goyne was by the miHtia of Vermont. On the heights 
of Bennington, the Hessians were to feel the power 
of undisciplined freemen, unconquerable in the right- 
eousness of their cause. 

At Bennington, Breymen and Baum, tw^o officers 
who had been despatched to procure supphes of cattle 
and horses, and to capture or destroy a stock of 
provisions collected by the Americans, were met by 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 79 

the gallant Starke of New Hampshire. Baum, fail- 
ing in his first objects, fortified himself in a favoura- 
ble position, and waited for his associate Breymen. 
Before he had time to arrive, the Green Mountain 
Boys rushed upon his entrenchments with such im- 
petuosity that nothing could stand before them. On 
the first assault the Canadians fled in disorder; Baum 
received a mortal wound, and not a man of all his 
regiment escaped. Unknowing his fate. Colonel 
Breymen came up soon afterwards, and met his vic- 
torious enemies instead of his friends. His troops, 
after sustaining a few fires, broke into disorder, and 
sought shelter in the woods, where they were within 
a short period nearly all taken. 

About the same time that the parties of Baum and 
Breymen were destroyed, the force co-operating with 
Burgoyne, under Colonel St. Leger, consisting of 
British and Indians, being met by a fierce resistance, 
and alarmed by a false report, raised the siege of 
Fort Stanwix, an important position on the Mohawk. 
The Indians, discouraged by a tedious series of ap- 
proaches, which resulted in a total disappointment 
of anticipated plunder, deserted their allies; while 
General Gates, who commanded the American force 
in the north, was daily reinforced by brave men from 
the adjoining country. Arnold, who afterwards be- 



80 



LIFE OF 



came infamous by his treason, was there ; and Mor- 
gan, whose better fame is equally immortal, was pre- 
sent with his unerring riflemen. The approach of 
Burgoyne from the north was connected with the 
expected movement of Sir Henry Clinton, with a 
force from the south. They were to meet at Albany. 
But one never arrived there, and the other went 
against his will, since he was carried as a prisoner. 

After much hard fighting, in which Arnold, and 
Morgan, and Dearborn, and Brooks, and others, dis- 
tinguished themselves, on the morning of the 17th 
of October, in the year 1777, was seen at the outlet of 
Saratoga Lake, the first British army laying down its 
arms to the Americans, who were thus not only re- 
lieved of the presence of a formidable foe, but placed 
in possession of a fine train of artillery, seven thou- 
sand stand of arms, and a large quantity of military 
stores. 

This great event, it was thought, would check the 
advance of Sir Henry Clinton up the Hudson, and 
relieve General Gates of all apprehensions from 
that quarter. It was therefore resolved to reinforce 
Washington by drawing detachments from the 
northern army. He accordingly deputed Alexander 
Hamilton, then acting as his aid, to urge General 
Gates to a speedy compliance with the orders of 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 81 

Congress. Hamilton states in a letter to Washing- 
ton, that Gates discovered much unwiUingness to 
diminish his force, and urged his apprehensions of 
an attack from Clinton, as a pretext for declining to 
furnish the required reinforcements. There are, how- 
ever, strong reasons for believing that an intrigue 
had been set on foot to displace Washington from 
the command, and elect General Gates in his stead. 
The capture of Burgoyne had raised the reputation 
of Gates higher than that of any other man except 
Washington, if, indeed, he was an exception ; and 
a small party was formed in Congress, aided by a 
few officers, not altogether destitute of claims to 
distinction, to place him in the chief command. 

How far Gates himself participated in this project, 
cannot easily be decided. Happily for the country, 
the intrigue proved abortive. The army under 
Washington, the people, and even the soldiers of 
General Gates, rejected the idea of a change. Gates 
received the command of the force destined to act 
against Lord Cornwallis in the south, where his suc- 
cess did not justify the anticipations of his friends 
or of his enemies. 

The event gave a new phase to affairs in England, 
and the contest began to excite deep interest on the 
continent. It was of importance to the states to 



82 LIFE OF 

gain aid from abroad, and the prospects of success 
were now so greatly increased, that European powers 
began to seek their own advantage in forming friendly 
relations with our country. 

When the victory was known in Pennsylvania, 
some of the officers of the army were so elated by 
it, that they were anxious to make an immediate at- 
tack on the enemy in Philadelphia. Many, who only 
looked on while their countrymen were toiling, 
thought that they knew better than Washington 
how to conduct the war, and were forward to express 
their opinions on the subject. 

But Washington knew well the condition of both 
parties. His mind was not dazzled by the idea of 
the praise he would acquire by success, and he per- 
severed in resisting public clamour, while he knew 
that by yielding to it he should endanger the general 
interests. His unyielding virtue saved the army for 
more important services. He was always in the best 
state for meeting an attack ; but was resolved not 
to commence one. 

Intelligence was brought to him that the enemy 
in the city were preparing to march out of it, and 
that it was the design of General Howe to drive him 
beyond the mountains. This information was given 
by a woman named Lydia Darrah, who resided in 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 83 

Second street, opposite to General Howe's head- 
quarters, in Philadelphia. Two of the British offi- 
cers selected a chamber in her house, as a secure 
place in which to hold private conversations ; on the 
second of December they told her they would be there 
at seven o'clock, and remain late ; and they desired 
that she and all her family would retire early. She 
thought something important to the Americans was 
to be discussed, placed herself in a situation to hear 
what was said, and understood from the conversa- 
tion that all the British troops were to march in the 
evening of the fourth, and surprise Washington in 
his camp. Supposing it to be in her power to save 
the lives of hundreds of her countrymen, she de- 
termined to carry this intelligence to Washington. 
She told her family she would go to the mill at 
Frankford, where she obtained her flour; and she 
had no difficulty in getting permission from General 
Howe to pass the lines for that purpose. Leaving her 
bag at the mill, she hastened to the American camp, 
and met an officer, named Craig, whom she knew. 
To him she told the secret, and made him promise 
not to betray her, as her life might in that case be 
taken by the British. Craig flew to Washington 
with the information, and the courageous matron 
returned to the city. 



84 L I F E O F 

General Howe inarched at the appointed time, 
but found Washington expecting him ; and, disap- 
pointed, he encamped within three miles of the 

Americans. 

A day passed, in which small detachments from 
each army attacked each other, and then all remained 
again at rest. Another day was spent in the same 
manner, and Washington employed himself in giving 
directions to every division of the army, and in en- 
couraging all to resist with bravery. General Howe 
suddenly broke up his camp, and marched his troops 
back to the city, showing that he feared too much 
the result of a contest, when the Americans were in 
a favourable situation for meeting him. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 85 




CHAPTER VI. 

N the winter following the events al- 
ready related, the American army was 
stationed at Valley Forge, near Phila- 
delphia. The hardships endured by the 
troops were almost incredible. Poorly fed, 
and nearly destitute of clothing, it required 
a confidence in their leader, and a devotion to 
their country, which have few parallels in his- 
tory, to keep them together. It is no cause of won- 
der that some of them were discontented ; that in 
their sufferings they pined for the comfortable homes 
which they had quitted for the battle-fields of freedom. 
But the great majority were firm, enduring every 
privation with patience and hope. Washington con- 
tinued to urge on the attention of Congress the suf- 
ferings of his poor soldiers. With all the energy 
of true feeling, and with a manly confidence in his 
own claims to be heard and respected, he exhorted the 
legislature to remedy the defects of the commissary 



86 L I F E O F 

department, where these wants principally originated; 
and, with the boldness of truth, lays the blame where 
it ought to rest. " I declare," said he, in one of his 
letters — " I declare, that no man, in my opinion, ever 
had his measures more impeded than I have, by every 
department of the army. Since the month of July 
we have had no assistance from the quartermaster- 
general ; and to want of assistance from this depart- 
ment the commissary-general charges great part of 
his deficiency. To this I may add, that notwith- 
standing it is a standing order, often repeated, that 
the troops shall always have two days' rations in 
advance, that they may be ready at any sudden call, 
yet scarcely any opportunity has ever offered of 
taking advantage of the enemy that has not been 
either entirely thwarted, or greatly obstructed, on 
that account." 

During the darkest period of the encampment at 
Valley Forge, Washington received a letter from 
the English governor of New York, enclosing a 
resolution of Parliament to propose a reconciliation 
to the Americans. Offers of pardon were made, but 
no acknowledgment of independence. The governor 
requested Washington to make the resolution known 
to his army. He, however, sent the letter and paper 
to Congress, expressing his surprise at the " extraor- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 87 

dinary request of the governor." Congress imme- 
diately resolved to refuse accepting any offers from 
the English government, until the independence of 
the country was acknowledged. Washington en- 
closed this resolution to the English governor, and 
requested him to make it known to his army. 

To show the determination of Congress on this 
point, and the spirit of devotion in which they had 
acted, it may be mentioned that Mr. Laurens, the 
President of that body, stated, in reply to a letter to 
him on the subject, that it would be unnatural to 
suppose their minds less firm than " when, destitute 
of all foreign aid, and even without expectation of 
an alliance ; when, upon a day of general fasting and 
humiliation, in their houses of worship, and in the 
presence of God, they resolved to hold no treaty 
with Great Britain unless they shall acknowledge 
the independence of these states." 

Several letters were addressed to members of 
Congress, by commissioners of the British govern- 
ment, assuring them of honours and rewards if they 
would procure a reconciliation. A proposal was 
made to Joseph Reed, a member from Pennsylvania, 
that he should have the best office in America, under 
the king, and ten thousand pounds, if he could bring 
Congress to consent to the offers of the British. He 



88 L I F E O F 

replied that he was " not worth buying ; but, such as 
he was, the king of England was not rich enough to 
do it." The commissioners persisted for some time 
in their tampering. They sent addresses to persons 
of every description throughout the country, with 
offers of pardon, and threatenings of vengeance, but 
their promises and menaces were ahke disregarded. 
The inhabitants of the surrounding country, know- 
ing the condition of the army, were alarmed ; one 
of them left his home one day, and, as he was passing 
thoughtfully the edge of a wood near the camp, 
heard low sounds of a voice. He paused to listen, 
and, looking betw^een the trunks of the large trees, 
saw Washington engaged in prayer. He passed 
quietly on, that he might not disturb him ; and, on 
returning home, told his family he knew the Ameri- 
cans would succeed, for their leader did not trust in 
his own strength, but sought aid from the Hearer of 
prayer, who promised in his word, " Call upon me 
in the day of trouble ; I will deliver thee, and thou 
shalt glorify me." Many, who, in prosperity, have 
forgotten to worship their Creator, call upon him 
earnestly in the day of trouble, when they feel that 
His power only can deliver them ; but wdth Wash- 
ington it was a custom, as one of his nephews 
thus relates : " One morning, at daybreak, an officer 




WASHINGTON AT VALLEY FORGE. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 89 

came to the general's quarters with despatches. As 
such communications usually passed through my 
hands, I took the papers from the messenger and 
directed my steps towards the general's room. Walk- 
ing along the passage which led to his door, I heard 
a voice within. I paused, and distinctly recognised 
the voice of the general. Listening for a moment, 
when all was silent around, I found that he was 
earnestly engaged in prayer. I knew this to be his 
hahit^ and therefore retired, with the papers in my 
hand, till such time as I supposed he had finished the 
exercise, when I returned, knocked at his door, and 
was admitted." Thus, in obedience to Him whom 
he called " the Divine Author of our blessed religion," 
Washington, in the retirement of his chamber, 
prayed to his " Father who seeth in secret ;" and 
truly his " Father who seeth in secret" did " reward 
him openly." 

The aspect of affairs now became more cheering. 
Silas Deane arrived from France with a treaty be- 
tween the United States and the French government, 
which revived everywhere the drooping spirits of the 
people. General Howe about the same time sailed 
for England. He was an experienced officer in Eu- 
ropean tactics, but wanted energy, enterprise, and 
activity and was utterly unable to cope with Wash- 



90 LI F E OF 

ington. He was succeeded by Sir Henry Clinton, 
also an officer of experience and reputation. The 
alliance with France, and its anticipated conse- 
quences, rendered an entire change of measures ne- 
cessary on the part of the enemy, and the new com- 
mander prepared to evacuate Philadelphia, to con- 
centrate his force at New York. This design was 
executed, and he marched through New Jersey with 
Washington hanging on his rear, eager to strike a 
blow. He had so long been harassed by the neces- 
sity of constantly retreating, that the idea of pursuit 
animated him to new exertions and new vigour. At 
last he had turned on his pursuers, and almost for 
the first time since he assumed the command, could 
he indulge the bias of his temper, which was ever 
in favour of decisive action. 

Though still inferior in force, he was equal in 
numbers, and hoped that Sir Henry Clinton would 
aflTord him an opportunity of attack, in his march 
through New Jersey. He proposed the question to 
a council of ofiicers, where it was opposed by Steu- 
ben, Du Portail, and General Lee. But this did not 
deter him, and he resolved that the enemy should 
not escape without a blow, if an opportunity for 
striking it occurred. The march of the British ge- 
neral was directed towards Middletown, whence he 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 91 

intended to embark for New York, and he had now 
arrived at Monmouth, a small town on high ground, 
not far from the bay of Amboy, and presenting a 
strong position. Another day's march would bring 
him to the heights of Middletown, where he would 
be unassailable. This was the last opportunity that 
might present itself, and Washington determined to 
avail himself of it. Accordingly he made dispositions 
for an attack the moment Sir Henry Clinton moved 
from the high ground at Monmouth, and General 
Lee was directed to assault his rear, while the re- 
mainder of the Americans opposed him on his 
flanks. 

Early in the morning, the British army had taken 
up its line of march towards Middletown. Washing- 
ton, hearing a firing, presumed that Lee was engaged, 
and came rapidly on to second him, when, to his 
astonishment, he found that officer in full retreat. 

"In the name of God, General Lee, what has 
caused this ill-timed prudence ?" said Washington. 

" I know no man blessed with a larger portion of 
that rascally virtue than your excellency," retorted 
Lee, sarcastically. 

Washington rode on furiously : for once in his life, 
ill-conduct, aggravated by insolence, had conquered 
his equanimity. He called to his men, and they an- 



92 LIFE OF 

swered him with cheers. He ordered them to charge, 
and they obeyed with enthusiasm. The English at- 
tempted to turn his flank, but were repulsed. They 
turned in another direction, and met Greene, who 
drove them back with his cannon, while Wayne, at 
the head of his legion, gave them such a severe fire, 
that they ceased to act on the offensive, and again 
took post in their stronghold. The extreme heat of 
the day, together with their exertions in the fight, 
had exhausted the vigour of both parties ; some died 
of mere fatigue, and others fell victims to their eager- 
ness to allay their burning thirst. Washington or- 
dered his soldiers to prepare for renewing the action 
early in the morning ; but when that came, the Brit- 
ish had decamped, and were so far on their way to 
Middletown Heights as to destroy all hopes of pre- 
venting their embarkation. 

On no occasion during the whole course of the 
war, did Washington appear greater than at Mon- 
mouth. He exposed himself to every danger, and 
seemed determined to make up by his own exertions 
for the misconduct of Lee, who was tried shortly 
after for disobedience of orders, for misbehaviour 
before the enemy, and for disrespect to the com- 
mander-in-chief. The sentence of the court sus- 
pended him from duty for one year, and was unani- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 93 

mously approved by Congress. This terminated his 
mihtary career. He Hved a few years an eccentric 
life, and finally died in deserved obscurity. 

Washington received a letter from Congress, in- 
forming him that a French fleet had arrived off 
the coast of Virginia, and requesting him immedi- 
ately to form some plan, in the execution of which 
the fleet could assist him. The admiral proposed 
attacking the English at Newport, in Rhode Island. 
Washington consented, and made preparations for 
doing so. American troops, commanded by General 
Sullivan, were soon in readiness to besiege the town, 
but waited some days for the French to appear and 
assist them. Confident that they were near, Sulli- 
van commenced the siege. The fleet in a few days 
was in sight, but then moved off* to meet the English 
naval force which had sailed from New York. They 
were prepared for an action, when a violent storm 
separated them, and injured several of their ships. 
The English sailed back to New York, and the 
French admiral informed General Sullivan, that he 
could not return to Newport, but would sail to Bos- 
ton to repair his damages. 

Sullivan was disappointed by this resolution, as it 
would oblige him to give up the siege, in which he 
had every prospect of success, if assisted by the 



M LIFE OF 

French. General Lafayette went to the admiral to 
prevail on him to remain, but his efforts were fruit- 
less. Sullivan, in giving his orders to his troops, 
said they must " endeavour to do for themselves, 
what their friends had refused to aid them in ;" but 
he found it would be useless to continue the siege, 
and withdrew. He was followed by the English, 
and had a short but severe battle on the 29th Au- 
gust, when he crossed over to the main land. The 
next day a large land force and several English ships 
arrived at Newport, so that if he had remained one 
day longer, his army must have been destroyed or 
taken. The French admiral was very much offended 
by General Sullivan's remarks ; and the people in 
Boston were so much displeased with the conduct 
of the admiral, that it was feared he would not be 
able to get assistance there to repair his ships. 

Washington watched every occurrence that would 
be hkely to injure the interests of the country ; and 
this event gave him great uneasiness. He endeav- 
oured to calm the offended parties ; and in this work 
he was aided by Lafayette, who was as dear to his 
own countrymen as to the Americans. A few let- 
ters passed between Washington and the admiral, 
and a t^ood understandino^ was restored. When the 
English fleet was repaired, it sailed to Boston, to 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 95 

blockade the French; but a storm again drove it 
out to sea, and in the beginning of November the 
French sailed for the West Indies. 

The danger of a war in Europe, in which the 
French would be interested, caused Lafayette to ob- 
tain leave of absence, and to return to his natiye 
country. A part of the English army was sent to 
the southern states ; and as there was no prospect 
of doing any thing in the north in a winter campaign, 
Washington placed his army in quarters, the main 
body in Connecticut, and portions on both sides of 
the Hudson river, about West Point, and at Middle 
Brook. 



96 L I F E O F 




CHAPTER VII. 



T may be doubted whether the success 
of the American cause was greatly ac- 
celerated by the assistance afforded by 
France. The people, w^ho before had 
relied solely upon their own energies, began 
now to think their triumph was secured, and 
from that moment to remit in some degree 
the exertions they would otherwise have made. 
Washington's efforts were unceasing, both with the 
army and the Congress, in warning against the dan- 
gers of a false security, and though in the next two 
years there were few military movements of much 
consequence, it may be doubted whether the Father 
of his Country ever served her interests more effec- 
tually than in this period. Still, the army was suffered 
to dwindle away until it amounted to less than three 
thousand ; disaffection spread among the troops ; 
the Connecticut line mutinied; and the farmers, 
having lost all faith in the ability of Congress to pay 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 97 

for their produce, refused to trust any longer in the 
promises of that body. 

Among the miUtary operations of the year, were 
the melancholy destruction of Wyoming, in Penn- 
sylvania, and the storming of Stoney Point. The 
last act was gallantly accomplished by General 
Wayne. Washington had in view an attack on the 
enemy's posts at and about King's Ferry, which he 
decided to take in detail, rather than risk a general 
system of operations, which the failure of a single 
link might render ineffectual. Stoney Point was one 
of the most inaccessible of these, and in addition to 
its natural strength, was defended by six hundred of 
the enemy, under Colonel Johnson. It was intended 
to take it by surprise, and for that purpose midnight 
was chosen for the attack. The hour came, and 
Wayne's little band marched in silence to execute 
their purpose. There was but one way of approach- 
ing this strong position, and that was over a narrow 
causeway, crossing a marsh. They advanced with- 
out speaking a word, with unloaded muskets and 
fixed bayonets, preceded by the forlorn hope, con- 
sisting of two parties of twenty men each. They 
gained the works without being discovered ; for the 
enemy little dreamed of an attempt on their strong 
position. A few minutes after twelve, the attack 



98 LIFE OF 

commenced ; the Americans dashed forward under 
a heavy fire, and carried the fort at the point of the 
bayonet, with the loss of about one hundred, killed 
and wounded. The loss of the enemy was sixty- 
three killed, and upwards of five hundred prisoners. 
Wayne received a slight wound in the head, which 
stunned him for a few minutes ; but, supported by 
his aids, on either side, he continued at his post, and 
entered the fort with the foremost of his associates. 

This affair recalled the attention of Sir Henry 
Clinton from Connecticut, whither he had sent an 
expedition under Governor Tryon, and he advanced 
up the Hudson, towards the Highlands, and re- 
possessed himself of Stoney Point. Finding, how- 
ever, that he could not attack Washington with any 
chance of success, in the strong position he occu- 
pied, the British commander fell back upon the 
city, and devoted his attention to the affairs of the 
south, whither the tide of war was now flowing. 
Leaving a sufficient force to protect New York, he 
carried the war into the south with more vigour 
than ever. He besieged and took Charleston, which 
surrendered the 12th of May, 1780, and with it 
the whole southern army, under General Lincoln. 

By this disaster the whole southern section of the 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 99 

country was left exposed to the enemy. No assist- 
ance could be obtained from the American army in 
the north, which was now weakened in numbers, 
and by want and misery ; so that General Schuyler 
wrote as follows to Washington on the subject : — 
*'At one time the soldiers ate every kind of horse-feed 
but hay. As an army, they bore it with the most heroic 
patience ; but sufferings like these, accompanied by 
the want of clothes, blankets, &c., will produce fre- 
quent desertion in all armies ; and so it happened 
with us, though it did not create a single mutiny." 

Another gloomy period succeeded the hopes awak- 
ened by the alliance with France. As yet it had done 
nothing but draw on the Americans a greater weight 
of vengeance. The French fleets were followed by 
superior fleets of the enemy, which checked their 
operations on our coasts ; and when they departed 
for one place, took advantage of their absence to 
scourge those whom they came to protect. Con- 
gress could procure no supplies for the army in ex- 
change for promises, whose fulfilment depended on 
a distant hope. It became impossible to graduate 
the pay of the army to the rapid depression of the 
medium of payment. The pay of a field officer 
would not furnish provender for his horse, and that 
of a common soldier could find nothing necessary to 



100 LIFE OF 

his comfort within the compass of his means. Owing 
to a want of uniformity in the mihtary estabhshment, 
arising in a great degree from the different quotas 
of the states being placed under the supervision of 
those who sent them, and not of Congress directly, 
and the means or will of some of the states being 
greater than of others, it frequently happened that the 
troops of one state would be, at least partially, sup- 
plied with necessaries or comforts, of which the 
rest were wholly destitute. Thus, to the miseries 
of want, was added the aggravation of seeing others 
in comparative plenty; for though the soldiers 
sometimes shared with each other, it was not to be 
expected that they would strip themselves to clothe 
a stranger, or divide their last morsel with any but 
their dearest associates. 

In this condition of things, a strong disposition to 
mutiny began to manifest itself among the common 
soldiers, which was not checked by an exertion of 
the influence of the officers. They too were suffer- 
ing like their fellows ; those who had private for- 
tunes were compelled to expend them, and those 
who depended on their pay were left destitute by the 
worthlessness of paper-money. The officers of more 
than one line unanimously announced their deter- 
mination to resign, and without doubt, if they had 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 101 

carried this resolution into effect, it would have been 
followed by a voluntary disbandment of the whole, 
or a greater portion, of the army. But whenever 
the Genius of Freedom despaired, she had recourse 
to the wisdom and influence of Washington. He 
called to him the officers who were about to take 
this fatal step ; he reasoned with them on the duties 
of patriotism, and the sacrifices which every man 
owed to his country in the hour of peril ; he referred 
to the past, as furnishing rational grounds of hope for 
the future, and by the force of his eloquence, aided by 
the weight of his character, at length induced them 
to devote themselves again to the cause in which 
they had suffered so much and so long. The imme- 
diate wants of the army were finally relieved by the 
expedient of a bank in Philadelphia, the object of 
which was the supply of provisions and clothing, by 
means of a capital of three hundred thousand pounds. 
The enemy, who on all occasions miscalculated 
the patriotism of the people, presuming on the dis- 
contents of the army, in the beginning of June made 
an attempt in New Jersey. Five thousand men, 
under General Knyphausen, landed at Elizabethtown- 
point, and marched into the interior as far as Spring- 
field. But the militia flew to arms, and gave them 
such a reception that they halted at Connecticut 



102 LIFE OF 

Farms, after having in revenge set fire to that set- 
tlement. 

In this period, Washington occupied the hills be- 
tween Springfield and Chatham. His force consisted 
of less than four thousand. Yet he never despaired 
or remitted his exertions. He watched with inces- 
sant vigilance for an opportunity of checking and 
punishing the invader; he toiled himself; himself 
set the example of fortitude and patience, while, at the 
same time, what Providence had denied him to do by 
his sword, he endeavoured to do with his pen. He 
called upon those who directed the civil aflfairs of the 
states to exert their influence and their energies to 
enable him to defend the hberties of the country, 
and never ceased urging them, with a dignified and 
decorous firmness, to the adoption of measures for 
the safety of the good cause. In many instances, 
they were animated to the passage of laws for this 
purpose; but the delays,perhaps difficulties, of carry- 
ing them into execution, were such as, in very many 
cases, prevented Washington from availing himself 
of their benefits until the opportunity had passed 
away, never to return. There can be no doubt what- 
ever, that if his means had in any degree corre- 
sponded with those of the enemy, he would have fin- 
ished the w^ar in a single campaign. But this was 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 103 

at no time the case, and least of all now. General 
Knyphausen, finding it impossible to bring him to 
action, or to take advantage of his rashness in the 
admirable position he had chosen, returned once 
more to Ehzabethtown, there to wait the arrival of 
Sir Henrv Clinton from the south, which event took 
place about the middle of June, and added to the 
already overwhelming force of the enemy, who re- 
sumed his operations in New Jersey with new vigour. 
But meeting with a brave resistance at the bridge 
of Rahway, and discouraged by the spirit and vigour 
displayed on that occasion by the regular troops 
under General Greene, the British commander turned 
back once more to Ehzabethtown, whence he passed 
over to Staten Island. 

In the month of July following, the French fleet, 
commanded by the Chevalier Ternay, having on 
board six thousand troops, under Count Rochambeau, 
appeared oft' Rhode Island. The anxiety of Washing- 
ton had been extreme that the states should be pre- 
pared to co-operate with their allies with an efficient 
force. The plan which he had urged for recruiting the 
army had been partly adopted ; but such were the 
delays attending the action of government, and such 
the discouragements which stood in the way of en- 
listment, that he could form no reasonable esti- 



104 LIFE OF 

mate of the force with which he might be able 
to co-operate with the French, and consequently 
propose no feasible plan of operations. This was 
the more mortifying to his feelings, as the French 
army had been placed by the court of France en- 
tirely under his direction. The arrival rendered it 
now imperative on him to present to their command- 
ers a definitive plan for the campaign. He accord- 
ingly communicated to them an arrangement for 
besieging New York, in the forlorn hope that the 
means of fulfilling his part would in time be furnish- 
ed by Congress and the states. "Pressed on all 
sides," he says, in a letter to the former, "by a 
choice of difficulties, in a moment which requires 
decision, I have adopted that line of conduct which 
comported with the dignity and faith of Congress, 
the reputation of these states, and the honour of our 
arms. I have sent on definitive proposals of co-ope- 
ration to the French general and admiral. Neither 
the period, the season, nor a regard to decency would 
permit delay. The die is cast ; and it remains with 
the states, either to fulfil their engagements, preserve 
their credit, and support their independence, or to 
involve us in disgrace and defeat. Notwithstanding 
the failures pointed out by the committee, I shall 
proceed on the supposition that they will ultimately 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 105 

consult their own interest and honour, and not suffer 
us to fail for want of means which it is evidently in 
their power to afford. What has been done, and is 
doing, by some of the states, confirms the opinion I 
have entertained of sufficient resources in the coun- 
try. Of the disposition of the people to submit to 
any arrangement for calling them forth, I see no 
reasonable ground of doubt. If we fail for want of 
proper exertions in any of the governments, I trust the 
responsibility will fall where it ought, and that I shall 
standjustified to Congress, my country, and the world." 
The plan proposed for the siege of New York 
contemplated that the troops should leave Newport, 
and the Americans rendezvous at Morrisania, oppo- 
site the north end of York Island, where they were 
to form a junction. It was indispensable to the suc- 
cess of the arrangement that the French should 
possess a naval superiority over the British. But 
this was effectually prevented by the arrival of six 
ships of the fine, sent by Admiral Graves to rein- 
force the squadron at New York. This turned the 
scales completely ; and instead of the allies besieg- 
ing the British in New York, the English admiral 
sailed to Rhode Island to attack the French. At 
the same time Sir Henry Clinton proceeded with 
eight thousand men, with a design, as was supposed, 



106 LIFE OF 

of co-operation, and Washington prepared for an 
attack on New York in his absence. This brought 
Chnton back to his old quarters, which movement 
of course arrested the design of the American 
commander. 

Thus all prospects of a junction of the allied 
forces of America and France were destroyed. 
The policy of the French in co-operating with the 
Americans had a twofold object : One was to assist 
America, the other to protect the French West In- 
dia Islands. Hence, in the history of those times, 
the conduct of the French admirals, in appearing at 
one moment here, and the next sailing for the West 
Indies, is explained by the necessity of following 
the movements of the fleet of the enemy. 

By the unexpected return of the Admiral Count 
de Guichen to France, which created great disap- 
pointment among both French and Americans, the 
British land and naval forces were each left in the 
ascendency, and the alhes forced to act on the de- 
fensive. Washington, however, still cherished a 
determination to attempt New York the first oppor- 
tunity ; when the arrival of Admiral Rodney, with 
eleven ships of the line, rendered all further prose- 
cution of the design hopeless, until a change should 
take place in the relative force of the parties. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 107 




CHAPTER VIII. 

HEN the English had abandoned 
Philadelphia, General Benedict Ar- 
nold, who had been wounded in the 
^^ north, and was still unfitted for the 
active services of the field, was 
placed in command of that city. He had 
often shown himself possessed of courage? 
and of military ability ; and his patriotism 
had not yet, perhaps, been doubted. But the 
life of pleasure which opened before him, as he re- 
covered from his wounds, presented too many temp- 
tations to vice, for his resistance ; and he abandoned 
himself to dissipation and extravagance. The un- 
becoming means to which he resorted to obtain 
money, brought him into collision with the local au- 
thorities, and under the censure of Congress. He 
demanded a trial, and was sentenced to be repri- 
manded by Washington. His pride was deeply 
wounded, and the mild lesson he received from his 



108 LIFE OF 

commander, instead of inducing his reform, deter- 
mined him to deeper transgressions. Either before, 
or soon afterwards, he entered into a correspondence 
with the British in New York, and only waited to 
become worth buying, to propose the purchase to 
Sir Henry Chnton. That opportunity offered itself 
when, at his solicitation, he was placed in command 
of the post of West Point, which was the key to the 
Highlands, the head-quarters of the American army, 
and the very stronghold of our cause. He now 
meditated the final consummation of his treason. 
In conjunction with Major John Andre, adjutant- 
general of the British army, he matured a plan, 
which, had it been successfully executed, would in 
all probability have resulted in the capture of the 
entire army, and all the military stores deposited at 
West Point. Sir Henry Clinton was to proceed by 
water to the Highlands with all his force, where he 
would find the American troops dispersed in situa- 
tions which would render defence impossible and 
their capture certain. The absence of Washington 
in Connecticut furnished the favourable moment. 
To give the last finish to this fatal scheme, the Vul- 
ture sloop of war was sent up the river, as near the 
Highlands as w^as prudent, bearing Andre to an in- 
terview with Arnold, who had come down to Haver- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 109 

straw for this purpose. Accordingly they met, and 
settled the final prehminaries of this momentous 
project. But Providence, who seems ever to have 
watched over the liberties of the United States, in- 
terposed a series of obstacles, apparently trifling in 
themselves, but decisive in their consequences. Andre 
was to have been put on board the Vulture by day- 
light in the morning, but that vessel had been obliged 
to remove so far down the river, by a fire from the 
shore, from a small cannon, that the men appointed 
to row the boat, which belonged to a man of the 
name of Smith, refused to perform the task. They 
either feared detection, suspected something wrong, 
or were, as they pleaded, too much fatigued for such 
a service. 

It then became necessary to provide for the return 
of Andre by land. The country between the High- 
lands and Kingsbridge was at that period called 
" between the lines," and was subject to the inroads 
of both parties. 

As it was possible Andre might encounter some 
of the Americans on his route, it was determined, 
after much alleged opposition on his part, that he 
should lay aside his uniform and put on a disguise. 
Thus relinquishing his character of soldier, he was 
passed over to the east side of the river, and fur- 



110 LIFE OF 

nished by Smith with a horse. Smith also accom- 
panied him as far as he thought necessary or pru- 
dent, and then, bidding him farewell, returned to his 
home. Andre pursued his way without meeting any 
interruption, or encountering a single obstacle, and 
was congratulating himself, as he afterwards de- 
clared, on being now in safety, when, in the act of 
crossing a little bridge, near the village of Tarry- 
town, he was stopped by a young man, who darted 
out of the woods and seized his bridle. Completely 
taken by surprise, he acted as men usually do in 
such situations. He asked the young man, whose 
name was John Paulding, where he came from ? He 
replied, " From below," a phrase signifying that he 
came from the British posts in that direction. "And 
so do I," cried Andre, expecting to be immediately 
released. But this confession betrayed him, and on 
the appearance of two other young men, named 
WiUiams and Van Wart, who were called out by 
the first, he discovered his imprudence. It w as then 
that he produced his pass from Arnold, which would 
probably have assured his release, but for the pre- 
vious declaration, that he came " from below." He 
was taken into an adjoining wood, and searched, 
without making the least resistance; and nothing 
being found to excite suspicion, the young men began 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. Ill 

to waver under his threats of the vengeance of Ar- 
nold, should they detain him. 

Before they let him go, however, it was proposed 
to search his boots, which had hitherto escaped their 
attention ; and now, for the first time, x\ndre turned 
pale. He discovered an unwillingness that excited 
suspicion, and they were obliged to resort to threats 
before they could induce him to submit. On pulling 
off his right boot, a paper was discovered, which at 
once indicated his business. It was a plan of West 
Point, the disposition of the army, and of every par- 
ticular necessary to the success of the British. This, 
and other papers, all in the handwriting of Arnold, 
disclosed the importance of the prize. 

There are not in history many nobler examples 
of patriotism than that of these young Americans. 
They were the sons of reputable families in the 
county of Westchester, but they were poor, and their 
poverty had been rendered more pressing by the evils 
and excesses of war. Their parents lived " between 
the lines," and were equally subjected to the injuries 
of both parties. Andre offered them any reward 
they should demand, and pledged himself to remain 
as a hostage wherever they pleased until the reward 
was received. "If you would give me ten thousand 
guineas, you should go nowhere but to head-quar- 



112 LIFE OF 

ters," replied Paulding, and the sentiment was echoed 
by Wilhams and Van Wart. 

As they proceeded to the quarters of the nearest 
officer, Andre remained at first silent and sad, until 
they stopped for refreshment at a small country inn. 
Here he entered into some conversation with the 
youn^ men, and seemed more cheerful. During the 
rest of their journey he scarcely uttered a word. 

The capture of Andre disconcerted for ever the 
nefarious schemes of Arnold. Jameson, the officer 
to whom he was conducted, who seems to have been 
a weak and credulous man, permitted Andre to write 
the traitor a letter announcing his capture, in the ex- 
pectation, probably, that he would take measures for 
his release. But the only use he made of the informa- 
tion was to flee with all speed, leaving his wife to 
the mercy of those he attempted to betray, and his 
name to their execrations. He succeeded in reach- 
ing the Vulture, whence he proceeded to New York. 
Here he met the rewards of that treason which the 
virtue of three poor youths had defeated ; he received 
from the British general the rank he had forfeited in 
the American army ; distinguished himself by his im- 
pertinence, his gasconade, and his cruelties ; retired to 
England at the conclusion of the war, where he hved 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 113 

a life of mortification, poverty, and worthlessness, 
and died a death worthy of his never-ending infamy. 

Andre, perceiving the impossibihty of further de- 
ception, wrote to Washington, announcing his name 
and rank, and hinting that the treatment of certain 
prisoners taken at Charleston might materially de- 
pend on that which he received. His subsequent 
conduct was manly and becoming ; he was tried, 
condemned, and executed as a spy, amid the regrets 
of his enemies, who, in consideration of his youth, 
and the circumstances of his death, lamented his fate, 
and wished for some other victim. 

He had, however, no cause of complaint, and ac- 
cording to the usages of war, with which he was 
famiUar, he merited his fate. While a prisoner he 
was treated with kindness and courtesy. His life 
would have been spared if the public welfare had 
permitted. Very different was the treatment of an 
American officer. Captain Hale, who was arrested 
by the English, under less aggravated circumstances, 
on Long Island. He was in all respects the equal 
of Andre, and superior to him in that he perilled life 
for his country's freedom, while Andre was a mere 
mercenary soldier. Hale was subjected to the most 
unfeeling brutality by the English officers ; denied 
the privilege of writing to his family; denied the 

H 



114 L I F E O F 

consolations of religion ; denied every thing which 
in civilized communities it is the custom to yield to 
even the vilest criminals. Hale is forgotten by his 
countrymen, while Andre, an enemy who sought our 
ruin, and who, perhaps, would have caused us the 
lives of thousands, had not the patriotism of Pauld- 
ing and his companions been proof against his gold, 
is a favourite hero of our romancers and poets. 

There were but few military operations under the 
immediate command of Washington during the 
campaign of 1780, and those which occurred were 
of slight importance. General Greene, who had been 
appointed to the command of the army in the south, 
prosecuted the war in that quarter with vigour and 
with some success. The battle of the Covvpens, 
which was fought on the 17th of January, 1781, 
between the American forces under General Morgan, 
and the English under Colonel Tarleton, was the 
most decisive triumph of our arms in that winter ; 
the loss of the Americans being but eighty in killed 
and wounded, while Cornwallis lost about one-fifth 
of his army, besides arms, ammunition, and other 
military stores. Morgan w^as, however, soon com- 
pelled to retreat into Virginia, before the main body 
of the British, who endeavoured to retrieve the loss 
sustained by Tarleton at the Cowpens. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 115 

On tho first of January, thirteen hundred men, 
stationed at Morristown, New Jersey, threatened to 
lay down their arms and return home, unless Con- 
gress granted them redress of grievances. No doubt 
they acted wrongly; but, however reprehensible their 
conduct may seem, it originated in no unworthy 
motives. It was the consequence of personal hard- 
ship and suffering, not of disaffection or cowardice. 
When Wayne, their commander, threatened them 
with a cocked pistol, they exclaimed, with one voice, 
" General, we love you, we respect you, but if you 
fire you are a dead man. We are not going to de- 
sert to the enemy. Were he in sight at this moment, 
you would see us fight under your orders in defence 
of our country. We love liberty, but we cannot 
starve." Their subsequent conduct proved the truth 
of their professions. When Sir Henry Clinton, 
hearing of these proceedings, despatched emissaries 
to tempt them to his side, by a promise of reward, 
they spurned his proposals, seized his emissaries, and 
delivered them up to their general. Such behaviour, 
in some measure, atoned for their mutiny. Wash- 
ington was at New Windsor, on the Hudson, when 
news of the revolt reached him, which was before 
the civil authorities of Pennsylvania had yielded in 
a great measure to the claims which they presented. 



116 LIFE OF 

He felt the justice of the demands of the poor sol- 
diers, and the danger of compliance. To deny them 
mitTht be followed bv perseverance in the course 
they had taken : to yield to threats, made with arms 
in their hands, would, beyond doubt, encourage 
others having equal cause of complaint, to pursue a 
similar cause. He, therefore, declined to interpose 
his personal authority. 

No immediate danger could result from the with- 
drawal of the Pennsylvania line in the dead of winter, 
and now was, perhaps, the best time to impress upon 
Congress and the state authorities the necessity of 
providing for the future pay and wants of the army. 
Accordingly, he contented himself with recommend- 
inff to General Wayne a watchful vigilance over the 
movements of other portions of the army in his vi- 
cinity, and advisHig him to draw the refractory line 
to the western side of the Delaware, for the purpose 
of rendering it more difficult for the enemy to tam- 
per with them in their present state of excitement. 
The authorities o( Pennsylvania having yielded to 
the claims of these soldiers, the consequences of 
their success were soon visible in other divisions of 
the army. A considerable portion of the Jersey 
brigade made demands similar to those so success- 
fullv asserted bv the Pennsvlvania line, and there 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 117 

was reason to fear that a general disaffection would 
ere long manifest itself by similar effects in other 
divisions. Washintrton had foreseen the conse- 
quences of complying with demands which, though 
not unjust, were ill-timed, and made in a manner 
destructive to military discipline. Perceiving that 
every additional example of successful mutiny would 
be a signal for others, he determined to take deci- 
sive measures towards the Jersey brigade. He 
directed General Howe to march against the new 
mutineers ; to quell the resistance at all hazards ; to 
make no terms with them under any circumstances ; 
and whether they surrendered their arms, or resisted 
by force, to seize and hang a few of the ringleaders 
in the presence of their confederates. No resistance 
was made ; they laid down their arms, and two of 
the most active were shot. The remainder returned 
to their duty to a country, which nothing but a series 
of hardships and privations, difficult for the most 
patriotic to bear, had induced them, in a moment 
of impatient suffering, to desert. 

Washington made use of this revolt to show 
to Congress, and to the different states, the necessity 
of making more effectual exertions to supply the 
army with clothing and food. He represented their 
sufferings so feelingly, that efforts were made in 



118 



LIFE OF 



each state to contribute to their relief; and small as 
the aid was, the sufferers were satisfied with this 
proof that their countrymen were not unmindful of 
them. When Congress had succeeded in satisfying 
the discontented troops, they entered upon the dis- 
cussion of a plan for a union of the states which 
would enable them to carry on the war with less 
difficulty and expense. Articles of confederation 
were drawn up, and agreed to by all the members 
of Congress, and the knowledge of this bond of 
union gave universal satisfaction. 

All the accounts which Washington heard from 
the southern states made him anxious to send more 
troops there. The French fleet had been blockaded 
at Newport by the English ; but a violent storm in- 
jured many of the English ships, and on being moved 
away, the French admiral was enabled to send out 
a portion of his force, which he directed to sail to 
the Chesapeake. When Washington heard of this, 
he resolved to send troops to Virginia, in the expec- 
tation that he could obtain aid from the French in 
attacking some of the ports which were in posses- 
sion of the enemy. The French ships, however, soon 
returned to Newport. Washington was thus disap- 
pointed in his hope of aid at that time, but he sent 
troops, under Lafayette, to Virginia ; and went to 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 119 

Newport to communicate to the French admiral a 
plan which he had formed for co-operation. The 
admiral agreed to his proposals, and sent out a part 
of his vessels, but they were met by the English, 
and, after a sharp action, separated, and returned 
again to Newport. 

A portion of the troops which were marching to 
the south underLafayette, became discontented, and 
he discovered that desertions were constantly oc- 
curring. He called together all who remained, and 
told them he would not deceive them as to the diffi- 
culties and dangers to w hich they would be exposed, 
but, that any individual who was unwilling to en- 
counter them, should have permission to return to 
the army in New Jersey. This generosity had the 
desired effect. 

A large force had been sent from New York to 
Arnold, and Cornwallis had joined him, and taken 
command of all the troops. With so large an army, 
he was certain to defeat the little band of Lafayette, 
which he heard had entered Virginia, and he deter- 
mined to attack it as soon as possible. Lafayette 
w^ished to avoid Cornwallis, until the arrival of 
some reinforcements, which were on their way to 
join him, under General Wayne. Cornwallis heard 
of this, and determined to prevent it. He was so 



120 LIFE OF 

confident of success, that he wrote, in a letter which 
was intercepted, " the boy cannot escape me." But 
Lafayette moved with so much judgment and quick- 
ness, that his confident enemy was soon convinced 
he could not overtake him, or prevent his being 
joined by the expected troops, and he gave up the 
pursuit to wait for his return. 

When Lafayette received the expected reinforce- 
ments, he turned, and was soon within a few miles 
of Cornwallis, who, suspecting that he intended se- 
curing some military stores that had been sent up 
the James river to Albemarle Court House, placed 
troops in a situation to attack him on the road which 
he supposed he would take. Lafayette anticipated 
this, and in the night opened an old road, which had 
been long unused, by which he marched quietly to 
his destination ; and in the morning, when Cornwalhs 
had expected to have him in his power, he had the 
mortification of discovering that he had passed by, 
and was in a situation in which he could not be at- 
tacked. He probably thought the American army 
was larger than it really was ; for he gave up the in- 
tention he had formed of forcing it to an action, and 
marched to WilHamsburg. Lafayette followed him 
with great caution, and attacked several companies 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 121 

that were moving about the country, but avoided 
the danger of an engagement with the main army. 
While the British fleet was lying in the Potomac, 
in the vicinity of Mount Vernon, a message was 
sent to the overseer, demanding a supply of fresh 
provisions. The usual penalty of a refusal was set- 
ting fire to the house and barns of the owner. To 
prevent this destruction of property, the overseer, 
on receipt of the message, gathered a supply of pro- 
visions, aud went himself on board with a flag, ac- 
companying the present with a request that the pro- 
perty of the general might be spared. Washington 
was indignant at this proceeding. " It would," he 
writes, " have been a less painful circumstance to 
me to have heard that, in consequence of your non- 
comphance with the request of the British, they had 
burned my house, and laid my plantation in ruins. 
You ought to have considered yourself as my repre- 
sentative, and should have reflected on the bad ex- 
ample of communicating with the enemy, and mak- 
ing a voluntary offer of refreshment to them with a 
view to prevent a conflagration." 



122 



LIFE OF 



CHAPTER IX. 




LL Washington's plans for the reduc- 
tion of New York were destined from 
various causes to fail. He had looked 
forward to the fall of that city as the 
last important act of the w^ar, and had more 
than once completed as nearly as was possible 
his arrangements for an attack upon it ; but 
the happy combination of resources and op- 
portunity had not been presented, and he somewhat 
reluctantly now turned his attention toward the 
South. The appearance of a design to lay siege 
to New York was, however, kept up, with a view 
of deceiving Sir Henry CUnton, and preventing his 
sending assistance to Cornwalhs, who had strongly 
urged and received his promise of large rein- 
forcements. The design was rendered successful 
by a perseverance in all the common preparations 
for a siege, and particularly by the interception of 
a letter written by Washington at the time when 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 123 

it was really his intention to attack New York, de- 
tailing the plan of his intended operations. Nothing 
could be more fortunate than the destination of this 
letter. It confirmed Clinton so strongly in the im- 
pression that a siege was determined upon, even 
after it was abandoned, that nothing could shake 
his conviction. He was strengthening his defences 
and husbanding his force, until the American army 
was far on its way to Virginia. He then prepared 
to reinforce Cornwallis, but he was five days too 
late. 

Washington left the neiorhbourhood of New York 
towards the end of August, after having so fully im- 
pressed the British commander with the idea that 
his intention was to lay siege to the city, that he 
considered this movement a mere feint to deceive 
him. It was not until too late to overtake the com- 
bined armies, that he became certain of their real 
destination. 

Sensible that the success of the design against 
CornwaUis depended altogether on anticipating the 
reinforcements which it was presumed Sir Henry 
Clinton would send him, as soon as his apprehen- 
sions for the safety of New York were removed, 
Washington proceeded towards the head of Chesa- 
peake Bay. He marched rapidly through New Jer- 



124 L I F E O F 

sey and Pennsylvania; received at Chester the news 
of the arrival of the French fleet under Count de 
Grasse, and embarking the principal part of his 
army at the head of the Elk, proceeded to Wil- 
liamsburg, where he met the French admiral, with 
whom the plan of operations was settled. 

The departure from New York was the signal for 
an invasion of Connecticut by the enemy. Arnold, 
who had ravaged Virginia, now volunteered to in- 
vade his native state. The storming of Fort Gris- 
wold, the death of Colonel Ledyard, the massacre 
of the garrison, and the burning of New London, 
constitute the closing chapter of the traitor's hfe of 
shame and guilt, and give the finish to his career. 

The moment was now approaching which had 
been looked for, sometimes in hope, but oftener in 
despair. The great question was now to be decided. 
Cornwallis, at the head of upwards of seven thou- 
sand men, with a great train of artillery, had taken 
a position at York, a small town at the northern 
verge of the peninsula, between York and James 
Rivers, about eight miles wide. The town occupies 
the summit of a high abrupt bank, on the south side 
of the river. He has been blamed for cooping his 
army up in a place whence there was no retreat in 
case of defeat ; but he calculated on the superiority 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 125 

of the British naval force, which would at all times 
afford him the means of escape, and the facility in 
receiving reinforcements from Sir Henry Clinton. 

The arrival of Count de Grasse with twenty-five 
ships of the line destroyed one ground of hope, and 
the delays of Clinton were equally fatal to the other. 
He saw himself besieged by a superior army, ani- 
mated by the certainty of success ; every day in- 
creased his difficulties, and diminished his hopes of 
assistance ; new batteries were raised on all sides 
against him, while his own defences fell, one after 
another ; the Americans and French vied in acts 
of gallantry, and at the expiration of a (ew days 
his situation became desperate. Cornwallis wrote 
to Washington to request that hostilities might 
cease for twenty-four hours, during which time he 
would inform him on what terms he would surren- 
der. Washington informed him that it was his 
ardent desire to spare the shedding of blood, and 
that he would listen with readiness to such terms as 
could be accepted ; but requested that they might 
be made known immediately in writing, as he could 
quickly determine if he would agree to them. 

To some of the proposals of Cornwallis, Wash- 
ington could not consent, and he wrote the terms 
on which he expected him to lay down his arms, and 



126 LIFE OF 

said he would not change them. They were, that 
all the army, with their arms and military stores, 
and all the ships and seamen, were to be delivered 
up, the troops to be prisoners to Congress, and the 
naval force to the French. The soldiers were to 
remain, with a few officers, in America ; and the 
rest of the officers to return to Europe on assurance 
that they would not serve again against America. 
Cornwallis was to be allowed to send a ship un- 
searched to New York, to carry any papers he 
chose to send there. These terms were accepted 
by the English general, and on the 19th of October, 
1781, the whole British army marched out of York- 
town, as prisoners of war. General Lincoln was 
appointed by Washington to receive the submission 
of the enemy, in the same manner in which Corn- 
wallis had received that of the Americans on the 
12th of May, 1780, at Charleston. 

While the troops of Cornwallis were marching 
out of the town, with cased colours and drums beat- 
ing the sad sound of defeat, Washington said to his 
men, " My brave fellows, let no sensation of satis- 
faction for the triumph you have gained, induce you 
to insult a fallen enemy ; let no shouting, no cla- 
morous huzzaing, increase their mortification. It 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 127 

is a sufficient satisfaction to us that we witness their 
humiliation. Posterity will huzza for us !" 

On the day after the surrender, he ordered that 
all who were under arrest should be set at liberty, 
and he closed his order with this direction, " Divine 
service shall be performed to-morrow in the different 
divisions of the army; and the commander-in-chief 
recommends that all the troops that are not upon 
duty do assist at it, with a serious deportment, and 
that sensibility of heart, which the recollection of 
the surprising and particular interposition of Divine 
Providence in our favour, claims." 

The force surrendered amounted to more than 
seven thousand men, with a train of upwards of one 
hundred and sixty pieces of cannon. The scene 
had scarcely closed when Clinton appeared at the 
mouth of the Chesapeake with a reinforcement equal 
to the number who had just laid down their arms. 
But he came too late. The news was communicated 
to him, that all was over with Cornwallis, and he 
returned to New York. 

The capture of the Southern army awakened a 
thrill from one end of the United States to the other. 
It was everywhere hailed as the finishing of the war, 
the end of a long series of hardships and sufferings. 
There was scarcely a city, town, or village, through- 



128 LIFE OF 

out the whole Confederation that had not felt the 
scourge ; few were the fields that escaped ravaging, 
or the houses that had not been plundered, and few 
the citizens but had suffered in their persons or pro- 
perty. The whirlwind had not confined itself to one 
narrow track; it had swept over the face of the 
country from north to south, from east to west ; it 
had crossed and recrossed its path in every direc- 
tion, and wherever it had passed had left its mark 
of ruin. 

The prospect of winning the prize for which all 
these sufferings had been patiently endured, awa- 
kened the gladness of the whole people. In the 
dead of the night, a watchman in the streets of 
Philadelphia was heard to cry out, "Past twelve 
o'clock, and a pleasant morning — Cornwallis is 
taken." The city became alive ; the candles were 
lighted, and figures might be seen flitting past the 
windows, or pushing them up, to hear the sound 
repeated, lest it should have been nothing but a 
dream. The citizens ran through the streets to in- 
quire into the truth. None slept again that night, 
and the dawn, which brought confirmation of the 
happy tidings, shone on one of the most exulting 
cities that ever basked in the sunshine of triumph. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON 



129 



CHAPTER X. 




HROUGHOUT the country, and 

throughout the world, which had been 

a deeply interested spectator of the 

conflict, the capture of this second 

British army was regarded as decisive of our 

struggle for independence. The combined 

army soon after separated to go into winter 

'-' quarters. 

A portion of the French forces departed for the 
West Indies, and the residue remained in Virginia 
until the spring, when it left the country, followed 
by the blessings of the people. 

Washington, after separating from the French, 
resumed his position on the Hudson, for the purpose 
of being ready to act, if necessary, against Sir 
Henry Clinton on the opening of the spring. Though 
hoping the war was now closed, he did not remit his 
exertions to be prepared for its renewal. He saw 
the necessity of being ready for another campaign. 

I 



130 LIFE OF 

" I shall endeavour," he writes to General Greene, 
who so nobly distinguished himself in the war of the 
South — " I shall endeavour to stimulate Congress to 
the best improvement of our success, by taking the 
most vigorous and effectual measures to be ready 
for an early and decisive campaign the next year. 
My greatest fear is, that, viewing this stroke in a 
point of light which may too much magnify its 
importance, they may think our work too nearly 
closed, and fall into a state of languor and relaxa- 
tion. To prevent this error, I shall employ every 
means in my power; and if unhappily we fall into 
this fatal mistake, no part of the blame shall be 
mine." 

But, on receiving news of the capture of Corn- 
wallis, the ministry ceased to have a majority in the 
House of Commons in favour of the war. Various 
motions were made for putting an end to it, and 
finally a resolution was passed, declaring that the 
House would consider as enemies to the king and 
to the country all who should advise or attempt the 
further prosecution of offensive war in America. 
The command of the forces in this country was 
given to Sir Guy Carleton, with instructions to pre- 
pare the way for an accommodation by every proper 
means in his power. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 131 

Carleton accordingly opened a correspondence 
with Congress, proposing the appointment of com- 
missioners on their part to negotiate a reconcilia- 
tion. By the terms of the treaty of alliance be- 
tween the United States and France, neither party 
could conclude a separate peace without the consent 
of the other, and the negotiations were transferred 
to Paris. Here, on the 30th of November, 1782, 
the provisional articles of a treaty were agreed on 
by John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, John Jay, and 
Henry Laurens, on the part of the United States, 
and Messrs. Fitzherbert and Oswald on behalf of 
Great Britain. The definitive treaty of peace was, 
however, not finally ratified until the 30th of Sep- 
tember, 1783. It recognised the independence of 
the United States, and for ever. 

Thus, after a series of sacrifices as great as was 
perhaps ever made by any nation for the attainment 
of freedom, and an accumulation of suflferings, hard- 
ships, disappointments, and aggravated difficulties, 
which could only have been borne by a brave, 
steady, and virtuous people, the United States won 
for themselves a station among the independent 
nations. 

When the American army had the expectation 
of soon being dismissed from service, they became 



132 LIFE OF 

anxious about the pay that was due them, and which 
it was necessary they should receive, to enable them 
to return to their families. iVn artful address was 
circulated through the camp on the Hudson, for the 
purpose of inducing desperate resolutions to force 
the government to a compliance with their demands. 
The address was accompanied by an invitation to 
all the officers to meet on the next day, and take the 
subject into consideration. Washington was in 
camp, and his firmness and judgment did not for- 
sake him. In his general orders he noticed the 
address, and expressed his belief that the good sense 
of the officers would prevent their " paying any at- 
tention to such an irregular invitation," but invited 
them to meet on another day, when, he said, they 
could deliberate on what course they ought to pur- 
sue. Before that day arrived, he conversed sepa- 
rately with the officers, and used his influence to 
lead them to adopt measures which he intended to 
propose. When they were assembled, he addressed 
them in a calm and aflfectionate manner; entreating 
them to disregard the eflTorts that were made to in- 
duce them to act disgracefully, and assuring them 
of his confidence that Congress would treat them 
justly. 

This a.ddress, from one whom they loved and had 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 133 

been accustomed to obey, — in whose judgment and 
affection they had perfect confidence, — could not 
fail to influence the army, and the officers imme- 
diately formed resolutions which satisfied their 
anxious commander, and proved their respect for 
him. It has been suggested that in no instance 
did the United States receive a more signal deliver- 
ance through the hands of Washington, than in the 
termination of this transaction. His conduct gave 
a new proof of the soundness of his judgment, and 
the purity of his patriotism. He wrote to Congress 
an account of what had occurred, and earnestly en- 
treated that the demands of the army might be at- 
tended to, and that provision might be made for a 
further compensation than the mere pay which was 
due to the officers. He said, " if (as has been sug- 
gested for the purpose of inflaming their passions,) 
the officers of the army are to be the only sufferers 
by this revolution ; if retiring from the field they 
are to grow old in poverty, wretchedness and con- 
tempt, and owe the miserable remnant of that life 
to charity, which has hitherto been spent in honour, 
then shall I have learned what ingratitude is ; then 
shall I have reahzed a tale which will embitter every 
moment of my future life." 

Congress received a petition from the officers, and 



134 LIFE OF 

then formed a resolution that, in addition to what 
was due to them, they should receive full pay for 
five years; but they knew some time would pass 
before the money could be raised. The officers 
were satisfied with the promise, and in the course 
of the summer a large portion of the troops returned 
to their homes. 

A few new recruits, who had been stationed at 
Lancaster, marched to Philadelphia and placed sen- 
tinels at the doors of the State House, where Con- 
gress were sitting, and threatened to attack them if 
their demands for pay were not granted within twenty 
minutes. They did not perform their threat, but 
kept Congress prisoners for three hours. When 
Washington heard of this he sent fifteen hundred 
men to quell the mutineers, but this had been done 
without any violence before the troops arrived. He 
wrote to Congress that he felt much distressed on 
hearing of the insult which had been oflfered by 
these " soldiers of a day," and contrasted their con- 
duct with that of the men who had " borne the heat 
and burden of the war; veterans, who have pa- 
tiently endured nakedness, hunger and cold ; who 
have suffered and bled without a murmur, and who 
with perfect good order had retired to their homes 
without a settlement of their accounts, or a farthing 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 135 

of money in their pockets." In consequence of this 
event, Congress adjourned, to meet at Princeton, in 
New Jersey, at the close of the month of June, 
1783. It sat there, in the Library room of the Col- 
lege, about three months, and then adjourned to meet 
at Annapolis, in Maryland. 

When Washington had proclaimed the peace to 
his army on the 19th of April, he said, " On such a 
happy day — a day which completes the eight years 
of the war — it would be ingratitude not to rejoice, 
it would be insensibility not to participate in the 
general felicity ;" and he directed that the chaplains, 
with their several brigades, should " render thanks 
to Almighty God for all his mercies, particularly for 
his overruhng the wrath of man to his own glory ; 
and causing the rage of war to cease among the 
nations." When he dismissed the troops from ser- 
vice on the 2d of November, he gave them serious 
and affectionate advice as to their future conduct ; 
and assured them that he should recommend them 
to their grateful country, and in his prayers " to the 
God of armies." Earnestly desiring that his coun- 
trymen might secure a continuance of the favour 
of heaven, he wrote an address to the governors of 
the different states, which he said he wished them to 
consider as " the legacy of one who had ardently 



136 LIFE OF 

desired on all occasions to be useful to his country ; 
and who, even in the shade of retirement, would not 
fail to implore the divine benediction upon it." The 
address contained important and wise counsel, and 
he concluded it with the assurance, " I now make it 
my earnest prayer that God would have you and 
the state over which you preside in his holy protec- 
tion, and that he would incHne the hearts of the citi- 
zens to cultivate a spirit of subordination and obe- 
dience to government, and to entertain a brotherly 
affection and love for one another ; for their fellow 
citizens of the United States at large, and particu- 
larly for their brethren who have served in the field; 
and, finally, that he would be most graciously pleased 
to dispose us all to do justice, to love mercy, and to 
demean ourselves with that charity, humility, and 
pacific temper of mind, which were the characteris- 
tics of the Divine Author of our blessed religion ; 
without an humble imitation of whose example in 
these things we can never hope to be a happy na- 
tion." 




. s.;s^5«P«^B^i^^SiK^4?& 



MOUNT VERNON, 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 137 




CHAPTER XL 

HE final evacuation of New York, 
by the British, occurred on the 25th 
of November, 1782. They had held 
possession of the city six years. Soon 
after their withdrawal, the American troops, 
under General Knox, took possession. They 
were followed by General Washington and 
Governor Clinton, who made a public entry on 
horseback, followed by civil and military officers, 
and a large number of citizens. Several days were 
devoted to festivities. The people of every class 
participated in the general joy. 

Washington began now to prepare for revisiting 
his home at Mount Vernon, which he had not seen 
from the time on which he left it to take the com- 
mand of the army. The most impressive and the 
most painful duty before him was to take leave of 
his old companions in arms. On the 4th of Decem- 
ber, at twelve o'clock, they assembled, by his re- 



138 LIFE OF 

quest, at the hotel in which he lodged, where in a 
few minutes they w^ere met by their general. Few 
words passed, for their hearts were too full to speak. 
Washington filled a glass of wine, turned to his fel- 
low-soldiers, and, in a voice almost choked with his 
emotions, addressed them in these noble and affect- 
ing words : " With a heart full of love and grati- 
tude, I now take leave of you. I most devoutly 
wish that your latter days may be as prosperous 
and happy as your former ones have been glorious 
and honourable." Having pledged himself to them 
all, he added, — " I cannot come to each of you to 
take my leave, but shall be obliged if each of you 
would come and take me by the hand." The first 
that came was General Knox, who received the 
pressure of his hand in silence, and in silence re- 
turned it. He was followed, one by one, by each 
of the officers present, who reciprocated the cordial 
embrace without uttering a word. A tear from the 
heart filled every eye ; but no word could be uttered 
to break the silence of the aflfecting scene. Wash- 
ington left the room, and the officers followed him, 
in noiseless procession, and with sad countenances, 
to the boat which was to convey him away from 
them. He stepped into it, and, turning towards the 
shore, waved his hat without speaking ; the officers 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 169 

returned the salutation, and continued to gaze 
after their beloved commander until they could no 
longer distinguish his form, and then returned in 
sadness to the place where they had assembled. 

Washington could not rest until he had performed 
all the duties which his upright mind dictated, and 
he proceeded to Philadelphia to give an accoimt of 
the manner in which he had expended the public 
money. All his accounts were written by himself, 
and every entry made in the most exact manner, so 
as to give the least trouble in comparing them with 
the receipts with which they were accompanied. 
He made no charge for his services, but had spent 
a considerable portion of his own fortune. The 
regularity and minuteness with which he had kept 
an account of the funds received and expended 
during eight years, and the faithfulness with which 
he had, in the midst of his many employments, at- 
tended to having the public treasure used in the 
most economical and advantageous manner, proved 
that he had a right to the title of an honest man. 
From Philadelphia he proceeded to Annapolis, where 
Congress was sitting, and there he proved his patriot- 
ism by giving back the power which had been placed 
in his hands, when he could no longer use it for the 
benefit of his country. Congress appointed the 23d 



140 LIFE OF 

December for receiving his resignation, and a crowd 
of spectators witnessed the interesting ceremony. 
He was received by Congress as the " founder and 
guardian of the republic." Feeling the importance 
of the blessings of freedom and peace which the 
Great Ruler of the universe had made him an agent 
to obtain for them, they looked at him, when about 
to resign his power, with emotions of admiration 
and gratitude; and, recollecting how closely they 
had been connected with him in scenes of distress 
and danger, there were few eyes undimmed with 
tears. With unambitious dignity he rose and ad- 
dressed General Mifflin, the President of Congress. 
He said, "I resign with satisfaction the appointment 
I accepted with diffidence ; a diffidence in my abili- 
ties to accomplish so arduous a task, which, how- 
ever, was superseded by a confidence in the rectitude 
of our cause, the support of the supreme power of 
the union, and the patronage of heaven. The suc- 
cessful termination of the war has verified the most 
sanguine expectations ; and my gratitude for the in- 
terposition of Providence, and the assistance I have 
received from my countrymen, increase with every 
review of the momentous contest. I consider it as 
an indispensable duty to close this last act of my 
official life, by commending the interests of our dear- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 141 

est country to the protection of Almighty God, and 
those who have the superintendence of them to his 
holy keeping. Having now finished the work as- 
signed me, I retire from the great theatre of action, 
and bidding an affectionate farewell to this august 
body, under whose orders I have so long acted, I 
here offer my commission, and take my leave of all 
the employments of public life." He then gave his 
commission to the President, who, when he had re- 
ceived it, answered him in the name of Congress, 
and said, " Having defended the standard of liberty 
in this new world : having taught a lesson useful to 
those who inflict, and to those who feel oppression, 
you retire from the great theatre of action with the 
blessings of your fellow-citizens ; but the glory of 
your virtues will not terminate with your military 
command ; it will continue to animate remotest 
ages. We join you in commending the interests 
of our dearest country to the protection of Almighty 
God, beseeching him to dispose the hearts and minds 
of its citizens to improve the opportunity afforded 
to them of becoming a happy and respectable na- 
tion. And for you, we address to Him our earnest 
prayers, that a life so beloved may be fostered with 
all his care; that your days may be as happy as 



142 LIFE OF 

they have been illustrious ; and that he will finally 
give you that reward which this world cannot give." 
History presents no more sublime scene than that 
of a successful hero, at the close of a long war, 
giving up his power, and a nation which has just 
achieved its independence, in the solemn act of dis- 
solving its military state, all uniting in ascribing 
praise to God. " It seems impossible to contem- 
plate the scene just sketched," remarks Mr. Pauld- 
ing, "without feeling the heart to swell with the 
noblest, most affecting emotions. The event itself, 
so simple yet so grand ; the example of a great and 
virtuous man, who, having fulfilled the duties for 
which he was raised to power, voluntarily comes 
forward to surrender it into the hands of the repre- 
sentatives of the people ; the character and dignity 
of that august assembly to whom the trust was sur- 
rendered, and of the man who thus easily divested 
himself of authority ; the piety, fervour, and sim- 
plicity of the address and the reply ; and the recol- 
lection of the events which preceded and followed 
the consummation of the independence of a great 
nation — all combine to form a picture to which few 
of this world present a parallel. Here, as in all the 
acts of his life, Washington exhibited an example 
which will be much oftener admired than imitated. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 143 

Here, as in all other circumstances, he stands almost 
alone in the world — great, without seeming to be 
great, because he performed great actions with such 
ease and simplicity, with such a total absence of all 
apparent effort, that, until we examine them critical- 
ly, they appear like those of ordinary men." 

When Washington had resigned the title of Com- 
mander-in-chief, he took that of private citizen, and 
retired to his peaceful home. The satisfaction he 
felt in doing so was expressed in a letter to his 
friend Lafayette, who had returned to France soon 
after the surrender of Cornwallis. " At length," he 
wrote, " I have become a private citizen, on the 
banks of the Potomac, and under the shade of my 
' own vine and my own fig-tree,' and free from the 
bustle of a camp and the busy cares of public life. 
I have not only retired from all public employments, 
but am retiring within myself, and shall be able to 
view the solitary walk, and tread the paths of pri- 
vate life, with heartfelt satisfaction." To General 
Knox he wrote, — "I feel now, as I conceive a weary 
traveller must do, who, after treading many a pain- 
ful step, with a heavy burden on his shoulders, is 
eased of the latter, having reached the haven to 
which all the former were directed, — and from his 
house-top, in looking back and tracing with eager 



144 LIFE OF 

eye, the meanders by which he has escaped the 
quicksands and mires which lay in his way, and into 
which none but the all-pow^erful Guide and Dispenser 
of human events could have prevented his falling." 
— For months after his return, he received, almost 
every day, addresses from all parts of the union, 
expressing the affection and gratitude of his coun- 
trymen. 

He was at this time fifty-one years of age, with a 
vigorous frame, and a constitution unbroken by the 
vicissitudes of a hard service of eight arduous years, 
notwithstandinoj in some of his letters he alludes to 
his being occasionally afflicted with rheumatic pains, 
the consequence of his former exposures in the field. 
His pleasure was in the performance of his duties. 
His employment was agriculture. He wished to set 
an example of successful farming to all who were 
within the sphere of his influence, and his long ab- 
sence from the care of his estate left ample room 
for improvements. Accordingly, he opened a cor- 
respondence with the most distinguished agricul- 
turists of England and the United States, and availed 
himself on all occasions of their experience, when- 
ever he thought it applicable to the condition or the 
means of his countrymen and neighbours. 

Every morning he was abroad in the fields, direct- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 145 

ing his labourers, and seeing that they had compHed 
with his instructions. His eye was everywhere, and 
as those who performed their duties never failed of 
being rewarded by his approbation, so those who 
neglected them were sure of a reprimand. He con- 
sidered indulgence to his dependants, when carried 
to the extent of permitting idleness or offence, as 
equally unjust to himself and injurious to them. He 
was a kind master to the good, a strict disciplinarian 
to the bad, and he was both feared and loved by ail 
within the sphere of his domestic influence. He 
exacted obedience, and repaid it by benefits. His 
domestic government was patriarchal; the people 
of his estabhshment were his children, equally the 
subjects of his authority and the objects of his 
affection. 

But Washington did not confine himself to the 
improvement of his own domain, or the introduction 
of a better system of agriculture in his native state. 
He took journeys in different directions, to ascertain 
the practicability of great internal improvements, 
which might at one and the same time increase the 
means of happiness, and, by associating the interests 
of the different sections of the country, operate as 
new bonds of union. His influence and his aroru- 
ments prevailed in the legislature of Virginia, and 



146 LIFE OF 

two companies were established for the purpose of 
extending the navigation of the Potomac and James 
Rivers. By the act of the legislature, one hundred 
and fifty shares of stock, amounting to forty thou- 
sand dollars, were offered to his acceptance. These 
he declined with a noble disinterestedness, and at 
his request they were appropriated to the purposes 
of education. Thus usefully and honourably em- 
ployed in cultivating the earth, and forwarding 
objects beneficial to mankind, his short interval of 
repose passed away in all the comforts of a good 
man's lot. Health, competence, and well-won ho- 
nour, active employment, and the recollections of a 
glorious life, all combined to make him as happy as 
is compatible with the dispensations of this world. 
— Washington on his farm at Mount Vernon, per- 
forming his duties as a virtuous and useful citi- 
zen, is not less worthy of contemplation than 
Washington leading his country to independence, 
and showing her how to enjoy it afterwards. The 
former example is indeed more extensively useful, 
because it comes home to the business and bosoms 
of ordinary men, and is within the reach of their 
imitation. 

Among the pleasures which now awaited Wash- 
ington was a visit from Lafayette, who, after the 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 147 

fall of Cornwallis, had gone back to France. It 
was, however, of short duration, for the friends 
were soon again engaged in public scenes and cares. 
Before Lafayette returned, he visited the mother of 
Washington. She received him kindly, and talked 
with him of the happy prospects of her country, 
and of the conduct of her son, whom Lafayette 
praised with the warmth of strong attachment. She 
listened calmly to him, and then replied, "7 am not 
surprised at ivhat George has done, for he was always 
a very good boy.'' On leaving this venerable woman, 
Lafayette asked and received her blessing, and bade 
her a last farewell. When he took leave of Wash- 
ington, he indulged a lively hope that they would 
once more meet; but when, in the year 1825, he 
again visited i\.merica, he was received as the " Na- 
tion's Guest," and, instead of being welcomed at 
Mount Vernon by Washington, he was led to his 
tomb to shed tears of sorrow. 



148 LIFE OF 




CHAPTER XII. 

CARCELY had the sun of independ- 
ence dawned on the United States, 
when it was obscured by clouds. Com- 
mon danger had kept them together, 
while struggling for liberty, and almost without 
a government. But that no longer existing, 
the bonds that remained were too weak to 
produce either unity of action or submission 
to authority. A people who had just burst asunder 
the shackles of a foreign government, were unwill- 
ing to impose upon themselves new fetters. The 
states, which had acted in a great measure inde- 
pendent of each other during the war, were extreme- 
ly unwilling to circumscribe their privileges, the 
more dear for being but newly acquired; and a 
large portion of the people shared in the sentiment. 
It had become obvious that they could not long hold 
together by the rope of sand of the confederation, 
which left each one at liberty to reject or disregard 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 149 

the requisitions of Congress. The enemies of li- 
berty had predicted the speedy dissolution of the 
Union, and the prophecy seemed about to be ful- 
filled. People began to talk of the necessity of re- 
turning once more to the protection of England, or 
establishing a kingly government. Washington, in 
one of his letters, exclaims, — " What astonishing 
changes a few years are capable of producing ! I 
am told that even respectable characters speak of a 
monarchical form of government without horror ! 
From thinking proceeds speaking ; thence to acting 
is often but a single step. But how inexcusable and 
tremendous ! What a triumph for the advocates of 
despotism to find that we are incapable of govern- 
ing ourselves, and that systems founded on the basis 
of equal liberty are merely ideal and fallacious ! 
Would to God that wise measures may be taken in 
tinie to arrest the consequences we have so much 
reason to apprehend ! Retired as I am from the 
world, I frankly acknowledge I cannot feel myself 
an unconcerned spectator. Yet, having happily as- 
sisted in bringing the ship into port, and having 
been fairly discharged, it is not my business to em- 
bark again on a sea of troubles." Yet he could not 
desert his country in this new and perilous voyage. 
He employed the influence of his character, the 



150 LIFE OF 

force of his reasonings, and the authority of his 
exannple, in producing a general impression of the 
absolute necessity of a modification of the govern- 
ment, to preserve its existence. He addressed let- 
ters to the governors of the states, and to the prin- 
cipal men of influence everywhere, urging them to 
come forward and lend their support to this indis- 
pensable measure. But it was a long time before 
even the authority and arguments of Washington 
could overcome the salutary fear with which every 
true lover of liberty contemplates an extension of 
authority. 

The effect was, however, at length produced. 
Virginia took the lead, and she was the first to in- 
troduce a resolution for electing deputies to a Gene- 
ral Convention for modifying the Articles of Con- 
federation. An insurrection in Massachusetts, which 
occurred about this time, and which for a while 
baffled the authorities of the state, afforded addi- 
tional proof of the utter weakness of the govern- 
ment, and demonstrated the necessity of a new or- 
ganization. The name of Washington appeared at 
the head of the Virginia delegates, and he was 
urged on all sides, and with the most pressing argu- 
ments, to accept the appointment. Greatly as he 
loved Mount Vernon and the enjoyments of rural 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 151 

life, he loved his country more. What he had la- 
boured so earnestly to bring about in the beginning, 
he could not and would not desert until it was 
brought to an end, and, after long consideration, he 
once more consented to return to public life. With 
what unwillingness he made the sacrifice is seen in 
various of his letters, wherein he expresses, with the 
unaffected plainness of truth, his hesitation. Once 
more he left his retirement, where, for a few short 
years of his arduous existence, he had tasted the 
blessings of a quiet and happy home. 

On the second Monday in May, 1787, the Con- 
vention met at Philadelphia, and chose Washington 
its president ; and, after long and serious consulta- 
tion on the important subject, that Constitution was 
formed under which the United States have become 
so prosperous, and the American nation so happy 
and respectable. The opinions of the members of 
the Convention seemed to be so opposed to each 
other on some points, that it was feared they could 
agree on no plan that would suit the whole country. 
The debate was increasing in warmth, when Dr. 
Franklin, with his accustomed wisdom and coolness, 
endeavoured to promote harmony by proposing an 
adjournment for three days, that there might be time 



152 LIFE OF 

for serious consideration of the subject. He con- 
cluded this speech to the following effect : — 

" The small progress we have made, after four or 
five weeks' close attendance and continued reasoning 
with each other, our different sentiments on almost 
every question — several of the last producing as 
many noes as ayes — is, methinks, a melancholy 
proof of the imperfection of the human understand- 
ing. We, indeed, seem to feel our want of political 
wisdom, since w^e have been running all about in 
search of it. We have gone back to ancient history 
for models of government, and examined the differ- 
ent forms of those republics which, having been 
originally formed with the seeds of their own disso- 
lution, now no longer exist: and we have viewed 
modern states all round Europe, but find none of 
their constitutions suitable to our circumstances. 

" In this situation of this assembly, groping as it 
were in the dark to find political truth, and scarcely 
able to distinguish it when presented to us, how has 
it happened, sir, that we have not hitherto once 
thought of humbly applying to the Father of Light 
to illuminate our understandings ? — In the beginning 
of the contest with Britain, when we were sensible 
of danger, we had daily prayers in this room for 
Divine protection. Our prayers, sir, were heard ; — 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 153 

and they were graciously answered. All of us, who 
were engaged in the struggle, must have observed 
frequent instances of a superintending Providence 
in our favour. To that kind Providence we owe 
this happy opportunity of consulting in peace on the 
means of establishing our future and national felicity. 
And have we now forgotten that powerful Friend ? 
Or do we imagine we no longer need his assistance ? 
I have lived, sir, a long time ; and the longer I live, 
the more convincing proofs I see of this truth, that 
God governs in the affairs of men. And if a spar- 
row cannot fall to the ground without his notice, is 
it probable that an empire can rise without his aid ? 
— We have been assured, sir, in the sacred writings, 
that 'except the Lord build the house, they labour 
in vain that build it.' I firmly believe this ; and I 
also believe that, without his concurring aid, we 
shall succeed in this political building no better than 
the builders of Babel : we shall be divided by our 
little, partial, local interests; our projects will be 
confounded ; and we ourselves shall become a re- 
proach and a by-word down to future ages. And, 
what is worse, mankind may hereafter, from this 
unfortunate instance, despair of establishing govern- 
ments by human wisdom, and leave it to chance, 
war, and conquest. I therefore beg leave to move — 



154 LIFE OF 

" That henceforth prayers, imploring the assist- 
Jince of Heaven, and its blessing on our delibera- 
tions, be made in this assembly every morning before 
we proceed to business ; and that one or more of 
the clergy of this city be requested to officiate in 
that service." 

One member only opposed this motion, and a per- 
son who was present relates that, whilst he was 
making his objections, Washington fixed his eye 
upon him with an expression of mingled surprise 
and indignation. No one condescended to notice 
the opposition, and the proposal was at once carried 
by the votes of all the other members. The ad- 
journment, also, according to his suggestion, took 
place, and, after the Convention had been opened 
with prayer, when they met again. Dr. Franklin 
stated the necessity and equity of mutual conces- 
sions from all parts of the Union. His views were 
adopted, and the important business, on which they 
were so warm when they separated, was soon de- 
spatched, and the whole constitution at length 
agreed to. 

Under the new constitution, a chief magistrate 
became necessary to administer the government. 
The eyes of the people were at once directed to 
Washington, and their united voices called upon 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 155 

hiai, who had led their armies in war, to direct their 
affairs in peace. His old companions came forth 
and besought him to leave his retirement once more 
to serve his country. The leading men of all par- 
ties wrote letters to the same purport, and on all 
hands he was urged by the warmest, most earnest 
applications. 

He was unanimously elected President of the 
United States on the fourth of March, 1789 ; but 
owing to some formal or accidental delays, this 
event was not notified to him officially until the 
fourteenth of April following. Referring to this 
delay, he thus expresses himself in a letter to Gene- 
ral Knox, who possessed and deserved his friendship 
to the last moment of his life. "As to myself, the 
delay may be compared to a reprieve ; for in confi- 
dence I tell you (with the world it would obtain little 
credit), that my movements tow^ards the chair of 
government will be accompanied by feehngs not 
unlike those of a culprit going to the place of exe- 
cution ; so unwilling am I, in the evening of a life 
consumed in public cares, to quit my peaceful abode 
for an ocean of difficulties, without the competency 
of political skill, abilities, and inclination which is 
necessary to manage the helm. I am sensible that 
I am embarking with the voice of the people, and a 



156 LIFE OF 

good name of my own, on this voyage ; and what 
returns will be made for them, Heaven alone can 
foretell. Integrity and firmness are all I can pro- 
mise. These, be the voyage long or short, shall 
never forsake me, though I may be deserted by all 
men ; for of the consolations to be derived from 
these, the world cannot deprive me." 

Such was the foundation of his modest confi- 
dence ; — firmness and integrity, the true pillars of 
honest greatness. And these never deserted him. 
He kept his promise to himself in all times, circum- 
stances, and temptations ; and though, on a few rare 
occasions during the course of a stormy season, in 
which the hopes, fears, and antipathies of his fellow- 
citizens were strongly excited, his conduct may have 
been assailed, his motives were never questioned. 
None ever doubted his firmness, and the general 
conviction of his integrity was founded on a rock, 
that could neither be undermined nor overthrown. 

Washington visited his mother to inform her of 
his appointment. He had endeavoured to prevail 
on her to make Mount Vernon the home of her lat- 
ter years ; but she would not consent to leave her 
humble dwelling, which was dear to her from having 
near it a rural spot, made private by surrounding 
rocks and trees, where she daily offered to her Crea- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 157 

tor her confessions and prayers. When her son 
told her he must bid her farewell, he said, "As soon 
as the weight of public business, which must neces- 
sarily attend the outset of a new government, can 
be disposed of, I shall return to Virginia, and" — 
" You will see me no more," said his mother, inter- 
rupting him ; " my great age warns me, that I shall 
not be long in this world, — I trust in God that I 
may be somewhat prepared for a better. Go, George, 
go, my son ! and perform your duties, and may the 
blessing of God, and that of a mother, be with you 
always." She put her arms around his neck, and, 
resting his head on the shoulder of his aged parent, 
the truly great man shed tears of filial tenderness. 
He parted from her with the sad feeling that he 
should indeed see her no more, and in a short time 
these painful apprehensions were realized. 

His progress from Mount Vernon to New York, 
where Congress was then sitting, was a succession 
of the most affecting scenes which the sentiment of 
a grateful people ever presented to the contempla- 
tion of the world. His appearance awakened in 
the bosoms of all an enthusiasm, so much the more 
glorious because little characteristic of our country- 
men. Men, women, and children poured forth and 
lined the roads in throngs to see him pass, and hail 



158 LIFE OF 

his coming; the windows shone with glistening eyes, 
watching his passing footsteps ; the women wept for 
joy ; the children shouted, " God save Washing- 
ton !" and the hearts of the stout husbandmen 
yearned with affection toward him who had caused 
them to repose in safety under their own vine and 
their own fig-tree. His old companions in arms 
came forth to renovate their honest pride, as well 
as undying affection, by a sight of their general, and 
a shake of his hand. The pulse of the nation beat 
high with exultation ; for now, when they saw their 
ancient pilot once more at the helm, they hoped for 
a prosperous voyage and a quiet haven in the bosom 
of prosperity. 

His reception at Trenton was peculiarly touching. 
It was planned by those females and their daughters 
whose patriotism and sufferings, in the cause of li- 
berty, were equal to those of their fathers, husbands, 
sons, and brothers. It was here, when the hopes 
of the people lay prostrate on the earth, and the 
eagle of freedom seemed to flap his wings, as if pre- 
paring to forsake the world, that Washington had 
performed those prompt and daring acts which, while 
they revived the drooping spirits of his country, 
freed, for a time, the matrons of Trenton from the 
insults and wrongs of an arrogant soldiery. The 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 159 

female heart is no sanctuary for ingratitude; and 
when Washington arrived at the bridge over the 
x\ssumpink, which here flows close to the borders 
of the city, he met the sweetest reward that perhaps 
ever crowned his virtues. Over the brido-e was 
thrown an arch of evergreens and flowers, bearing 
this inscription in large letters : — 

" December 26, 1776. 

" The hero icho defended the mothers will 

protect the daughters.^'' 

At the other extremity of the bridge were assem- 
bled many hundred girls, of various ages, ar- 
rayed in white, the emblem of truth and innocence, 
their brows circled with garlands, and baskets of 
flowers in their hands. Beyond these were disposed 
the grown-up daughters of the land, clothed and 
equipped like the others, — and behind them the 
matrons, all of whom remembered the never to be 
forgotten twenty-sixth of December, 1776. As he 
left the bridge, they joined in a chorus, touchingly 
expressive of his services and their gratitude, strew- 
ing at the same time flowers as he passed along. 

His reception everywhere was worthy of his ser- 
vices, and of a grateful people. At New York, the 



160 LIFE OF 

vessels were adorned with flags, and the river alive 
with boats, gayly decked out in like manner, with 
bands of nnusic on board ; the place of his landing 
was thronged with crowds of citizens, gathered to- 
gether to welcome his arrival. The roar of cannon 
and the shouts of the multitude announced his land- 
ing, and he was conducted to his lodging by thou- 
sands of grateful hearts, who remembered what he 
had done for them in the days of their trial. It had 
been arranged that a military escort should attend 
him ; but when the officer in command announced 
his commission, Washington replied, " I require no 
guard but the affections of the people," and declined 
their attendance. 

At this moment, Washington, though grateful for 
these spontaneous proofs of affectionate veneration, 
was not elated. In describing the scene in one of 
his famihar letters, he says : — " The display of boats 
on this occasion, with vocal and instrumental music 
on board, the decorations of the ships, the roar of 
cannon, and the loud acclamations of the people, as 
I passed along the wharves, gave me as much pain 
as pleasure, contemplating the probable reversal of 
this scene, after all my endeavours to do good." 
Happily, his anticipations were never realized. Al- 
though his policy in relation to the French Revolu- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 161 

tion, which was as wise as it was happy in its con- 
sequences, did not give universal satisfaction, still 
he remained master of the affections and confidence 
of the people. The laurels he had won in defence 
of the liherties of his country, continued to flourish 
on his brow while living, and will grow green on his 
grave to the end of time. 

On the thirtieth day of April, 1789, he took the 
oath, and entered on the office of President of the 
United States, one of the highest as well as most 
thankless that could be undertaken by man. The 
head of this free government is no idle, empty pa- 
geant, set up to challenge the admiration, and coerce 
the absolute submission of the people; his duties 
are arduous, and his responsibilities great ; he is the 
first servant, not the master of the state, and is 
amenable for his conduct, like the humblest citizen. 
As the executor of the laws, he is bound to see them 
obeyed ; as the first of our citizens, he is equally 
bound to set an example of obedience. The oath, 
" to preserve, protect, and defend the constitution 
of the United States," was administered in the bal- 
cony of the old Federal Hall in New York, by the 
chancellor of the state, and the interesting ceremony 
was witnessed by a great concourse of people. All 
stood in silence, until the oath was taken, and then, 



162 LIFE OF 

when the Chancellor proclaimed that George Wash- 
ington WAS THE President of the United States, 
a shout of joy burst from many thousands of grate- 
ful and affectionate hearts. The president went into 
the senate chamber, and in a modest but dignified 
manner, addressed the senate and house of repre- 
sentatives. In the course of his address he said, — 
" It will be peculiarly improper to omit, in this first 
official act, my fervent supplications to that Almighty 
Being, who rules over the universe, — who presides 
in the councils of nations, and whose providential 
aid can supply every human defect, — that his bene- 
diction may consecrate to the liberties and happi- 
ness of the people of the United States, a govern- 
ment instituted by themselves for these essential 
purposes, — and may enable every instrument em- 
ployed in its administration to execute with success 
the functions allotted to his charge. In tendering 
this homage to the great Author of every pubhc 
and private good, I assure myself that it expresses 
your sentiments not less than my own ; nor those 
of my fellow-citizens at large, less than either. No 
people can be bound to acknowledge and adore 
the invisible hand which conducts the affairs of men, 
more than the people of the United States. Every 
step by which they have advanced to the character 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 163 

of an independent nation, seems to have been dis- 
tinguished by some token of providential agency." 
In conclusion, he said, " I shall take my present 
leave, but not without resorting once more to the 
benign Parent of the human race, in humble suppli- 
cation, that since he has been pleased to favour the 
American people with opportunities for deliberating 
in perfect tranquillity, and dispositions for deciding, 
with unparalleled unanimity, on a form of govern- 
ment for the security of their union and advance- 
ment of their happiness ; so his divine blessing may 
be equally conspicuous in the enlarged views, the 
temperate consultations, and wise measures, on which 
the success of this government must depend." 

The Senate, in reply, expressed their high estima- 
tion of his wisdom and virtue, and said, " All that 
remains is that we join in your fervent supplications 
for the blessing of Heaven on our country ; and that 
we add our own for the choicest of those blessincrs 
on the most beloved of her citizens*" 



164 LIFE OF 




CHAPTER XIII. 

HE administration of Washington — 
extending from 1789 to 1797 — was as 
honourable as had been his mihtary 
life. There were difficulties enough, 
in the formation of a new government like 
ours, to test the wisdom and the patriotism of 
the greatest of men ; but the condition of the 
^^ world at this period of almost universal up- 
turnings and overthrow's, rendered the direction of 
public affairs doubly arduous and perilous. The 
Father of his Country seemed now, as he had seemed 
when at the head of our armies, the liberating and 
guiding minister of the King of kings. 

As when in the field, Washington declined receiv- 
ing from the people anything beyond his actual ex- 
penditures. He called round him a cabinet of the 
most able and honest statesmen, and with them de- 
voted himself incessantly to the arduous business 
of putting the government in successful operation. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 165 

Among the subjects which engaged his earnest con- 
sideration was the situation of the inland frontier, 
now exposed to the inroads and revenge of the In- 
dians. His policy, with regard to these unfortunate 
people, was successful in quieting, if not conciliating 
many of them ; but others remained refractory, and 
continued their atrocities. After defeating two 
American armies, with great slaughter, they were 
at length brought to terms by General Wayne, who 
gave them so severe an overthrow, in a general 
action, that they sued for peace. This was concluded 
at Greenville; and the cession of a vast territory, not 
only relieved the frontier from savage inroads, but 
paved the way for the progress of civilization into 
a new world of wilderness. 

He was equally successful at a subsequent period 
in his negotiations with Spain. His high character 
gave him great advantages in his foreign inter- 
course. He proceeded in a straightforward man- 
ner ; stated what was wanted, and what would be 
given in return ; relied on justice, and enforced its 
claims with the arguments of truth. He disdained 
to purchase advantages by corruption, or to deceive 
by insincerity. As in private, he proceeded upon 
the maxim, every day verified, that " Honesty is the 
best policy." The conviction of a man's integrity 



166 LIFE OF 

gives him greater advantages in intercourse with 
the world than he can gain by hypocrisy and false- 
hood. 

The settlement of the controversies growing out 
of the treaty with England proved even more diffi- 
cult than those with Spain. The wounds inflicted 
on both nations by a war of so many years were 
healed, but the scars remained, to remind the one 
of what it had suffered, the other of what it had 
lost. Time and mutual good offices were necessary 
to allay that spirit which had been excited on one 
hand by injuries, on the other by successful resist- 
ance ; and time indeed had passed away, but it had 
left behind it neither forgiveness nor oblivion. It 
was accompanied on one hand by new provocations, 
on the other by additional remonstrances and re- 
newTd> indignation. Negotiations continued for a 
long while, without any result but mortification and 
impatience on the part of the people of the United 
States ; and it was not until the French Revolution 
threatened the existence of all the established go- 
vernments of Europe, and England among the rest, 
that a treaty was concluded, which brought with it 
an adjustment of the principal points that had so 
long embroiled the two nations, and fostered a spirit 
of increasing hostility. The most vexing question 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 167 

of all, however, that of the right of entering our 
ships and impressing seamen, was left unsettled, and 
it became obvious that it would never be adjusted 
except on the principle of the right of the strongest. 
About the same time, peace was concluded between 
the United States and the Emperor of Morocco, and 
thus, for a while, our commerce remained unmolest- 
ed on that famous sea, where, some years afterwards, 
our gallant navy laid the foundation of its present 
and future glories. 

The commencement and progress of the French 
revolution occasioned the first and bitterest division 
of parties in the United States. The people of the 
United States had continued to cherish a strong feel- 
ing of gratitude for the good offices of France during 
their struggle for independence ; and in addition to 
this, their sympathies were deeply engaged in behalf 
of a contest so similar in many respects to their 
own. The institution of the French republic was 
hailed with an enthusiasm equal to that they felt on 
the establishment of their own liberties. Wash- 
ington himself did not hesitate to avow his kindly 
feelings and wishes for the liberal party in France, 
at first; but when the reign of terror set in, and the 
order of Jacobins was estabhshed, he contemplated 
the scene with horror, as did every intelligent and 



168 LIFE OF 

true-hearted friend of liberty throughout the world. 
In one of his public papers, in 1783, he had said 
that " there is a natural and necessary progression 
from the extreme of anarchy to the extreme of 
tyranny ;" and that " arbitrary power is most easily 
established on the ruins of hberty abused to licen- 
tiousness." A few years afterwards he saw that 
these maxims were to be verified in the case of 
France. The result justified the caution with which 
he avoided an alhance with that power. But inde- 
pendent of the powerful reasons for neutrahty, he 
knew that peace was indispensable to the United 
States in the infancy of their national existence and 
aflfairs. He issued his proclamation of neutrality, 
from which Mr. Genet, the minister of the French 
republic, threatened to appeal to the people, a mea- 
sure understood to mean nothing less than revolu- 
tion. From that moment the people began to rally 
around their beloved chief, like children who will 
not allow their father to be insulted, although they 
themselves may think him wrong. They sanctioned 
the proclamation, and time has ratified their decision. 
In 1794, after Washington had been a second 
time elected to the presidency, he had occasion to 
exhibit his wisdom and his firmness in the suppres- 
sion of the insurrection in the western part of Penn- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 169 

sylvania. Congress had imposed a tax on spirits 
distilled within the United States, and some of the 
inhabitants of that part of the country, not only 
refused to pay the tax, but treated with violence 
those who were appointed to collect it. The dis- 
graceful example was followed by so many, that it 
became necessary for the president to notice it. He 
endeavoured to make the insurgents submit quietly 
to the laws, but when he found they would not do 
so, he determined on sending against them a force 
which would be too powerful to resist. B}^ doing 
this, he hoped to prevent any bloodshed. Troops 
were directed to assemble at Bedford, and at Cum- 
berland, on the Potomac. Governor Lee, of Vir- 
ginia, was appointed to command the expedition, 
and as had been anticipated, the greatness of the 
force subdued, without the actual use of arms, the 
misguided enemies of the law. 

While he was deeply engaged in public business, 
he heard that Lafayette had been driven from his 
native land, by the unprincipled men who were con- 
ducting the revolution there ; and that he had been 
seized in Prussia, and sent to Austria ; the emperor 
of which country directed that he should be con- 
fined in a dungeon, in the town of Olmutz. Wash- 
ington could not interfere for his release, except in 



170 L I F E O F 

the private character of a friend ; but he used every 
means in his power to obtain it, and wrote a letter 
to the emperor of Austria, requesting him to permit 
Lafayette to come to America. But his request 
was not granted. Bolman, a young German, and a 
young American named Huger, formed a plan for 
effecting his escape. He was sometimes permitted 
to leave his dungeon, and walk a short distance with 
a guard. One day Bolman and Huger watched for 
him, having a horse ready, which Huger led sud- 
denly up to him, and desired him to mount ; the 
horse was frightened and ran off, Bolman followed 
to endeavour to catch it, and Huger then insisted 
that Lafayette should accept his horse, which he 
did, and was soon out of sight. Bolman could not 
overtake the affrighted horse, and he returned and 
took Huger behind him, and they followed the freed 
prisoner. The guard gave the alarm, and they were 
quickly pursued ; Huger was seized, but Bolman at 
that time escaped. Lafayette was stopped, and 
brought back to Olmutz. Chained, hand and foot, 
Huger was carried before a judge, who told him 
that it was probable his life would be the forfeit of 
his attempt to assist Lafayette to escape ; but that 
possibly the emperor would treat him with clemency, 
on account of his youth and motives. " Clemency !" 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 171 

said Huger, " how can I expect it from a man who 
did not act even with justice to Lafayette ?" The 
judge said to him, " If ever I need a friend, I hope 
that friend may be an American." Huger suffered 
from a close imprisonment for some time, and was 
then allowed to return to his own country. 

The efforts of Washington for the release of his 
friend, did not cease, however, and perhaps the let- 
ter which he wrote to the emperor had the effect of 
lessening the severity with which he was treated, 
and of shortening the period of his captivity. His 
son, named George Washington, escaped from 
France, and arrived at Boston. The president ad- 
vised him to enter the University at Cambridge, and 
assured him that he would stand in the place of a 
father to him, and become his friend, protector, and 
supporter. 

When the time came for a third election of presi- 
dent, the people were again ready to unite in voting 
for Washington. But he firmly refused to be re- 
elected. He assured his countrymen that he did 
not do so from any want of respect for their past 
kindness, or from feeling less anxious for their future 
prosperity; — that he had twice yielded to their 
wishes, because he thought that it was his duty to 
do so, but felt that then the happy state of their 



172 LIFE OF 

concerns would permit his retiring to enjoy the quiet 
of his own home. As his determination was firm, 
they did not persist in opposing it, and he prepared 
to take again the character of a private citizen. In 
concluding his last speech to Congress, he said, " I 
cannot omit the occasion to repeat my fervent sup- 
plications to the Supreme Ruler of the universe and 
sovereign arbiter of nations, that his providential 
care may still be extended to the United States ; that 
the virtue and happiness of the people may be pre- 
served, and that the government, which they have 
instituted for the protection of their liberties, may 
be perpetual." 

He also published a farewell address to the peo- 
ple of the United States, which contains the most 
instructive, important, and interesting advice, that 
was ever given to any nation. He was now about 
to withdraw his long and salutary guardianship from 
this young and vigorous country, his only offspring, 
and he left her the noblest legacy in his power, the 
priceless riches of his precepts and example. 

" In looking forward," he says, " to the moment 
which is intended to terminate the career of my 
public life, my feelings do not permit me to suspend 
the deep acknowledgment of that debt of gratitude 
which I owe to my beloved country for the many 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 173 

honours it has conferred upon me, or still more for 
the steadfast confidence with which it has supported 
me, and for the opportunities thence enjoyed of 
manifesting my inviolable attachment by services 
useful and persevering, though in usefulness unequal 
to my zeal. 

''Profoundly penetrated with this idea, I shall 
carry it with me to my grave, as a strong incite- 
ment to unceasing vows, that Heaven may continue 
to you the choicest tokens of its beneficence ; that 
your union and brotherly affection may be perpetual ; 
that the free constitution which is the work of your 
hands may be sacredly maintained; that its admin- 
istration in every department may be stamped with 
wisdom and virtue ; that in fine, the happiness of 
these States, under the auspices of liberty, may be 
made complete by so careful a preservation, and so 
prudent a use of this blessing, as will acquire to 
them the glory of recommending it to the applause, 
the affection, and the adoption of every nation which 
is yet a stranger to it. 

" Here, perhaps, I ought to stop. But solicitude 
for your welfare, which cannot end but with my life, 
and the apprehension of danger natural to such 
solicitude, urge me, on an occasion like the present, 
to oflfer to your solemn contemplation, and to re- 



174 LIFE OF 

commend to your frequent review, some sentiments 
which are the result of much reflection, of no in- 
considerable observation, and which appear to me 
all-important to your felicity as a people. These 
will be ofl^ered to you with the more freedom, as you 
can only see in them the disinterested warnings of 
a parting friend, who can possibly have no personal 
motive to bias his counsel. 

" Interwoven as is the love of liberty with every 
ligament of your hearts, no recommendation of mine 
is necessary to fortify the attachment. 

"The unity of government, which constitutes you 
one people, is also now dear to you. It is justly so ; 
for it is the main pillar in the edifice of your real 
independence, the support of your tranquillity at 
home and your peace abroad ; of your prosperit}, 
of that liberty which you so highly prize. But as 
it is easy to foresee that from different causes and 
from different quarters, much pains will be taken, 
many artifices employed, to weaken in your minds 
the conviction of this truth, (as this is the point in 
your political fortress against which the batteries of 
internal and external enemies will be constantly 
and actively, though often covertly and insidiously 
directed,) it is of infinite moment that you should 
properly estimate the immense value of yournational 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 175 

union to your collective and individual happiness ; 
that you should cherish a cordial, habitual, and im- 
moveable attachment to it, accustoming yourselves 
to think and speak of it as of the palladium of your 
political safety and prosperity ; watching for its pre- 
servation with jealous anxiety; discountenancing 
whatever may suggest even a suspicion that it may 
in any event be abandoned ; and indignantly frown- 
ing upon every attempt to alienate any portion of 
our country from the rest, or to enfeeble the sacred 
ties that now link together the various parts." 

He then proceeds to caution his fellow-citizens 
against those geographical distinctions of North, 
South, East, and West, which, by fostering ideas of 
separate interests and character, are calculated to 
weaken the bonds of our union, and to create pre- 
judices, if not antipathies, dangerous to its existence. 
He shows, by a simple reference to the great para- 
mount interests of each of the different sections, 
that they are inseparably intertwined in one common 
bond ; that they are mutually dependent on each 
other ; and that they cannot be rent asunder without 
deeply wounding our prosperity at home, our cha- 
racter and influence abroad, laying the foundation 
for perpetual broils among ourselves, and creating a 



176 LIFE OF 

necessity for great standing armies, themselves the 
most fatal enemies to the liberties of mankind. 

He earnestly recommends implicit obedience to 
the laws of the land, as one of the great duties 
enjoined by the fundamental maxims of liberty. 
" The basis of our political system," he says, " is 
the rio-ht of the people to make and alter their con- 
stitutions of government ; but the constitution which 
at any time exists, till changed by an explicit and 
authentic act of the whole people, is sacredly obli- 
gatory upon all. The very idea of the power and 
right of the people to establish government, presup- 
poses the duty of every individual to obey the 
established government." 

He denounces " all combinations and associations 
under whatever plausible character, with the real 
design to direct, control, counteract, or awe the 
regular deliberation and action of the constituted 
authorities," as destructive to this fundamental prin- 
ciple and of fatal tendency. He cautions his coun- 
trymen against the extreme excitements of party 
spirit; the factious opposition and pernicious ex- 
cesses to which they inevitably tend, until by de- 
grees they gradually incline the minds of men to 
seek security and repose in the absolute power of an 
individual; and sooner or later the chief of some 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 177 

prevailing faction, more able or more fortunate than 
his competitors, turns this disposition to the pur- 
poses of his own elevation, on the ruins of public 
liberty. 

He warns those who are to administer the govern- 
ment after him, " to confine themselves within their 
respective constitutional spheres, refraining, in the 
exercise of the powers of one department, to 
encroach upon another. The spirit of encroach- 
ment tends to consolidate the powers of all the 
departments in one, and thus to create, whatever 
the form of government, real despotism." 

He inculcates, with the most earnest eloquence, a 
regard to religion and morality. 

" Of all the dispositions and habits," he says, 
" which lead to political prosperity, religion and 
morality are indispensable supports. In vain would 
that man claim the tribute of patriotism who should 
labour to subvert these great pillars of human hap- 
piness, these firmest props of men and citizens. 
The mere politician, equally with the pious man, 
ought to respect and to cherish them. A volume 
could not trace all their connections with private 
and public felicity. Let it be simply added, where 
is the security for property, for reputation, for fife, 
if the sense of religious obligation desert the oaths 

M 



1 78 L I F E O F 

which are the instruments of investigation in courts 
of justice ? And let us with caution indulge the 
supposition that morality can be attained without 
religion. Whatever may be conceded to a refined 
education, or minds of peculiar cast, reason and 
experience both forbid us to expect that national 
morality can prevail in the exclusion of religious 
principles." 

He recommends the general diffusion of know- 
ledge among all classes of the people. " Promote, 
then," he says, " as an object of primary importance, 
institutions for the general diffusion of knowledge. 
In proportion as the structure of government gives 
force to public opinion, it is essential that public 
opinion should be enlightened." 

He recommends the practice of justice and good 
faith, and the cultivation of the relations of peace 
with all mankind, as not only enforced by the obliga- 
tions of religion and morality, but by all the maxims 
of sound policy. For the purpose of a successful 
pursuit of this great object, he cautions his fellow- 
citizens against the indulgence of undue partiality 
or prejudice in favour or against any nation what- 
ever, as leading to weak sacrifices on one hand, 
senseless hostility on the other. 

Most emphatically does he warn them against the 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 179 

wiles of foreign influence, the fatal enemy of all the 
ancient republics. He enjoins a watchful jealousy 
of all equally impartial, otherwise it may only lead 
to the suspicion of visionary dangers on one hand, 
and wilful blindness on the other. Then, after re- 
commending a total abstinence from all political 
alliances with the nations of Europe ; a due regard 
to the national faith towards public creditors ; suit- 
able establishments for the defence of the country, 
that we may not be tempted to rely on foreign aid, 
which will never be afforded, in all probability, with- 
out the price of great sacrifices on the part of the 
nation depending on the hollow friendship of jealous 
rivals, he concludes this admirable address, which 
ought to be one of the early lessons of every youth 
of our country, in the following affecting words : — 
" Though in reviewing the incidents of my ad- 
ministration, I am unconscious of intentional error, 
I am nevertheless too sensible of my defects, not to 
think it probable that I may have committed many 
errors. Whatever they may be, I fervently beseech 
the Almighty to avert or mitigate the evils to which 
they may tend. I shall always carry with me the 
hope that my country will never cease to view them 
with indulgence, and that after forty-five years of a 
life dedicated to its service, with an upright zeal, the 



ISO LIFE OF 

faults of incompetent abilities will be consigned to 
oblivion, as myself must soon be to the mansions 
of rest. 

" Relying on its kindness in this as in all other 
things, and actuated by that fervent love towards it, 
which is so natural to a man who views it as the 
native soil of himself and his progenitors for several 
generations, I anticipate with pleasing expectations 
that retreat in which I promise myself to realize, 
without alloy, the sw^eet enjoyment of partaking in 
the midst of my fellow-citizens the benign influence 
of good laws under a free government, the ever 
favourite object of my heart, and the happy reward, 
as I trust, of our mutual cares, labours, and dan- 
gers." 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 181 




CHAPTER XIV. 

HE long, and anxiously anticipated 
period, at length came, when the 
greatest of men might quietly repose 
under the shadow of that tree of 
Liberty, which he himself had planted in a soil 
enriched with the blood of her sons. Mount 
Vernon became no scene of luxurious ease, for 
the active habits which Washington had formed 
in the field and in the cabinet were still preserved. 
But the sword was exchanged for implements of 
husbandry, and the parade and circumstance of 
power for the quiet and unostentatious enjoyments 
of domestic life. Mount Vernon became the Mecca 
of freemen, who thronged its hospitable doors from 
all parts of Christendom. The ministers of foreign 
nations paid first their respects to the president in- 
cumbent, and then bent their steps to the peaceful 
and glorious retirement of the man who had given 
a new impulse to humanity, and whose name had 



182 LIFE OF 

become a word of hope to the enslaved and down- 
trodden in the remotest empires. Philosophers, and 
statesmen, and men of letters came to converse with 
the nearest approach to a faultless man which the 
world has furnished. His old companions in arms, 
too, were frequent and welcome visitors, with whom 
he delighted to live over again the days of suffering 
or of triumph through which they had passed. He 
wore now, by the assent of the world, the triple 
wreath, which never had been worn so worthily by 
other man, of Hero, Patriot and Sage. 

Washington's manners were at all times dignified, 
but the most humble citizen had never more sim- 
plicity. One day, after his return to his farm, he 
was visited by Colonel Meade, an old friend, who, 
meeting Mr. Custis, a relative of Mrs. Washington, 
at the mansion, inquired of him where he could see 
the General. Mr. Custis, not knowing Colonel 
Meade, replied, that Washington was out; and, 
giving directions as to the part of the farm on which 
he would probably be found, added, " You will meet, 
sir, with an old gentleman^ riding alone, in plain drab 
clothes, a broad-brimmed white hat, a hickory switch 
in his hand, and carrying an umbrella, with a long 
stajf, v)hich is attached to his saddle-bow : that sir, 
is General Washington. ^^ Colonel Meade replied, 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 183 

" Thank you, thank you, young gentleman ; I think, 
if I fall in with the General, I shall be apt to know 
him." 

This anecdote will give an idea of Washington's 
appearance at this period, but we may here give a 
more accurate description of his person, by Mr. 
Custis, who was with him constantly in the last days 
of his hfe. His great physical powers, so remarkable 
in his maturity, were in his limbs, which were long, 
large, and sinewy. His frame was of equal breadth 
from the shoulders to the hips. His chest, though 
broad and expansive, was not prominent, but rather 
hollowed in the centre. He had suffered from a 
pulmonary affection in early life, from which he 
never entirely recovered. His frame showed an 
extraordinary development of bone and muscle; his 
joints were large, as were his feet ; and could a cast 
have been preserved of his hand, to be exhibited in 
these degenerate days, it would be said to have be- 
longed to the being of a fabulous age. During the 
last visit of Lafayette to Mount Vernon, among 
many, and interesting relations of events that oc- 
curred in olden days, he said to Mr. Custis : " It was 
in this portico that you were introduced to me in 
1784 ; you were then holding by a single finger of 



184 LIFE OF 

the good General's remarkable hand, which was all 
that you could do, my dear sir, at that time." 

In the various exhibitions of Washington's physi- 
cal prowess, they were apparently attended by 
scarcely any effort. When he overthrew the strong 
man of Virginia in wrestling, while many of the 
young athletae of the times were engaged in the 
manly games, Washington had retired to the shade 
of a tree, intent upon the perusal of a favourite 
volume; and it was only when the champion of the 
games strode through the ring, calling for nobler 
competitors, and taunting the student with the re- 
proach that it was the fear of encountering so 
redoubted an antagonist that kept him from the ring, 
that Washington closed his book, and without divest- 
ing himself of his coat, calmly walked into the arena, 
observing that fear formed no part of his being ; then 
grappling with the champion, the struggle w^as fierce 
but momentary, "for," said the vanquished hero of the 
arena, " in Washington's iron-like grasp, I became 
powerless and was hurled to the ground, with a force 
that seemed to jar the very marrow in my bones ; 
while the victor, regardless of the shouts that pro- 
claimed his triumph, leisurely retired to his shade, 
and enjoyment of his favourite volume." 

The power of Washington's arm was displayed 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 185 

in several memorable instances ; as in his throwing a 
stone across the Rappahannock river, below Fred- 
ericksburg, another from the bed of the stream to 
the top of the Natural Bridge, and yet another over 
the Palisades into the Hudson. While C. H. Peale, 
the well-known artist, was at Mount Vernon in 1772, 
engaged in painting the portrait of the provincial 
Colonel, some of the young men were contending 
in the exercise of pitching the bar. Washington 
looked on for a time, then grasping the missile in his 
master hand, whirled the iron through the air, which 
took the ground far, very far, beyond its former 
Hmits — the Colonel observing with a smile, "You 
perceive, young gentlemen, that my arm yet retains 
some portion of the vigour of my earlier days." He 
was then in his fortieth year, and probably in the full 
meridian of his physical powers ; but those powers 
became rather mellowed than decayed by time, for 
"his age was like a lusty winter, frostly, yet kindly," 
and up to his sixty-eighth year, he mounted a horse 
with surprising agility, and rode with the ease and 
gracefulness of his better days. His personal 
prowess that elicited the admiration of a people who 
have nearly all passed from the stage of life, still 
serves as a model for the manhood of modern times. 
With all its development of muscular power, the 



186 LIFE OF 

form of Washington had no appearance of bulkiness, 
and so harmonious were its proportions that he did 
not appear so passing tall as his portraits have 
represented. He was rather spare than full during 
his whole life ; this is readily ascertained from his 
weight. The last time he was weighed was in the sum- 
mer of 1799, when having made the tour of his farms, 
accompanied by an English gentleman, he called at 
his mill for this purpose. Mr. Custis placed the weight 
in the scales. The Englishman, not so tall, but 
stout, square-built, and fleshy, weighed heavily, and 
expressed much surprise that the General had not 
outweighed him, when Washington observed, that 
the best weight of his best days never exceeded from 
210 to 220. In the instance now alluded to, he 
weighed a little more than 210. 

The portraits of Washington generally give to his 
person a fulness that it did not possess, together with 
an abdominal enlargement greater than in the life, 
while his matchless limbs have in but two instances 
been faithfully portrayed : in the equestrian portrait 
by Trumbull of 1790, a copy of which is in the City 
Hall of New York, and in an engraving by Loisler, 
from a painting by Cogniet, French artists of distin- 
guished merit. The latter is not an original painting. 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 187 

the head being from Stuart, but the dehneation of 
the limbs is the most perfect extant. 

Of the remarkable decrree of awe and reverence 
which the presence of Washington always inspired, 
we shall give but one out of a thousand instances. 
During the cantonment of the American army at the 
Valley Forge, some officers of the 4th Pennsylvania 
regiment were engaged in a game of fives. In the 
midst of their sport they discovered the Commander- 
in-Chief leaning upon the enclosure and beholding 
the game with evident satisfaction. In a moment 
all things were changed. The ball was suffered to 
roll idle away, the gay laugh and joyous shout of 
excitement were hushed into a profound silence, and 
the officers were gravely grouped together. It was 
in vain the chief begged of the players they would 
proceed with their game, declared the pleasure he 
had in witnessing their skill, and spoke of a proficiency 
in the manly exercise which he himself could have 
boasted of in other days. All would not do. Not 
a man could be induced to move, till the General, 
finding that his presence hindered the officers from 
continuing the amusement, bowed, and, wishing them 
good sport, retired. 

Another anecdote, not unlike the foregoing, is 
related by Mr. Paulding : 



188 LIFE OF 

" When Washington retired from public life, his 
name and fame excited in the hearts of the people 
at large, and most especially of the more youthful 
portion, a degree of reverence which, by checking 
their vivacity or awing them into silence, often gave 
him great pain. Being once on a visit to Colonel 
Blackburn, a large company of young people were 
assembled to welcome his arrival, or on some other 
festive occasion. Washington was unusually cheer- 
ful and animated, but he observed that whenever he 
made his appearance, the dance lost its vivacity, the 
little gossipings in corners ceased, and a solemn 
silence prevailed, as at the presence of one they 
either feared or reverenced too much to permit them 
to enjoy themselves. He strove to remove this 
restraint by mixing familiarly among them and talk- 
ing with unaffected hilarity. But it was all in vain ; 
there was a spell on the little circle, and he retired 
among the elders in an adjoining room, appearing 
to be much pained at the restraint his presence in- 
spired. When, however, the young people had 
again become animated, he arose cautiously from 
his seat, walked on tiptoe to the door, which was 
ajar, and stood contemplating the scene for nearly a 
quarter of an hour, with a look of genuine and 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 189 

benevolent pleasure that went to the very hearts of 
the parents who were observing him." 

The days of Washington were spent in useful 
employments, and his evenings in the enjoyment of 
domestic happiness. It was his custom to read to 
his family such new publications as interested him, 
and on Sunday evenings the Bible and a sermon. 
Sometimes he would sit, as if he forgot that he was 
not alone, and raising his hand, would move his lips 
silently, as if engaged in prayer. In town or coun- 
try, he was a constant attendant upon public worship, 
and by his devout deportment there, proved that he 
went there for the purpose of worshipping God. 
He always acknowledged by his example, that he 
felt his solemn obligation to keep holy the Sabbath 
day ; and to influence others to do so as far as was 
within his power. 



1 90 L I F E O F 




49i 



CHAPTER XV. 

E come now to the last chapter in the 
history of Washington — to the last 
^ scene of his glorious life in this world, 
V^*" which he left but to join the immortal 
company of great and good in Heaven. Mr. 
Bushrod Washington, one of his nephews, 
visited him a few days before his death. 
" During this visit to the General," he says, 
" we walked together about the grounds, and talked 
of various improvements he had in contemplation. 
The lawn was to be extended down to the river in 
the direction of the old vault, which was to be re- 
moved on account of the inroads made by the roots 
of the trees, with which it is crowned, which caused 
it to leak. 'I intend to place it there,' said he, 
pointing to the spot where the new vault now stands. 
' First of all, I shall make this change ; for, after all, 
I may require it before the rest.' 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 191 

'When I parted from him, he stood on the steps 
of the front door, where he took leave of myself and 
another, and wished us a pleasant journey, as I was 
going to Westmoreland on business. It was a bright 
frosty morning, he had taken his usual ride, and the 
clear healthy flush on his cheek, and his sprightly 
manner, brought the remark from both of us that we 
had never seen the General look so well. I have 
sometimes thought him decidedly the handsomest 
man I ever saw; and when in a lively mood, so full 
of pleasantry, so agreeable to all with whom he 
associated, that I could hardly realize that he was 
the same Washington whose dignity awed all who 
approached him. A few days after, being on my 
return home in company 'with others, while we were 
conversing about Washington, I saw a servant 
rapidly riding towards us. On his near approach, I 
recognised him as belonging to Mount Vernon. He 
rode up — -his countenance told the story — he handed 
me a letter. Washington was dead !" 

The most authentic and most interesting account 
of this melancholy event, is given by Tobias Lear, 
one of his attendants, who drew up the following 
statement, on the day after its occurrence. We 
have no fear that our readers will think the details 
too particular. 



192 LIFE OF 

"On Thursday, December 12th, the General rode 
out to his farm at about ten o'clock, and did not 
return home till past three. Soon after he went out, 
the weather became very bad ; rain, hail, and snow 
falling alternately, with a cold wind. When he 
came in, I carried some letters to him to frank, in- 
tending to send them to the post-office. He franked 
the letters, but said the w^eather was too bad to send 
a servant to the office that evening. I observed to 
him that I was afraid he had got wet ; he said no — 
his great-coat had kept him dry; but his neck 
appeared to be wet — the snow was hanging to his 
hair. 

" He came to dinner without changing his dress. 
In the evening he appeared as well as usual. A 
heavy fall of snow took place on Friday, which 
prevented the General from riding out as usual. He 
had taken cold, (undoubtedly from being so much 
exposed the day before,) and complained of having 
a sore throat ; he had a hoarseness, which increased 
in the evening, but he made hght of it, as he would 
never take anything to carry off a cold, — always 
observing, " let it go as it came." In the evening, 
the papers having come from the post-office, he sat 
in the room, with Mrs. Washington and myself, 
reading them, till about nine o'clock ; and, when he 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 193 

met with anything which he thought diverting or 
interesting, he would read it aloud. He desired me 
to read to him the debates of the Virginia Assembly, 
on the election of a senator and governor, which I 
did. On his retiring to bed, he appeared to be in 
perfect health, except the cold, which he considered 
as trifling — he had been remarkably cheerful all the 
evening. 

"About two or three o'clock on Saturday morning, 
he awoke Mrs. Washington, and informed her he 
was very unwell, and had an ague. She observed 
that he could scarcely speak, and breathed with 
difficulty, and she wished to get up and call a ser- 
vant; but the General would not permit her, lest she 
should take cold. As soon as the day appeared, the 
woman Caroline went into the room to make a fire, 
and the girl desired that Mr. Rawlins, one of the 
overseers, who was used to bleeding the people, 
might be sent for to bleed him before the Doctor 
could arrive. I was sent for — went to the General's 
chamber, where Mrs. Washington was up, and 
related to me his being taken ill between two and 
three o'clock, as before stated. I found him breath- 
ing with difficulty, and hardly able to utter a word 
intelligibly. I went out instantly, and wrote a line 
to Dr. Plask, and sent it with all speed. Immediately 



194 LIFE OB 

I returned to the General's chamber, where I found 
him in the same situation I had left him. A mixture 
of molasses, vinegar and butter, was prepared, but 
he could not swallow a drop ; whenever he attempted 
it he was distressed, convulsed, and almost suffocated. 

" Mr. Rawlins came in soon after sunrise, and 
prepared to bleed him ; when the arm was ready, the 
General observing Rawlins appeared agitated, said, 
with difficulty, " don't be afraid ;" and, after the 
incision was made, he observed the orifice was not 
large enough — however the blood ran pretty freely. 
Mrs. Washington, not knowing whether bleeding 
was proper in the General's situation, begged that 
much blood might not be taken from him, and desired 
me to stop it. When I was about to untie the string, 
the General put up his hand to prevent it, and, so 
soon as he could speak, said " more." 

"Mrs. Washington being still uneasy lest too 
much blood should be taken, it was stopped, after 
about half a pint had been taken. Finding that no 
relief could be obtained from bleedincr, and that 
nothing could be swallowed, I proposed bathing the 
throat externally with sal volatile, which was done ; 
a piece of flannel was then put around his neck. 
His feet were also soaked in warm water, but it gave 
no relief. By Mrs. Washington's request, I des- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 195 

patched a messenger for Dr. Brown, at Port To- 
bacco. About 9 o'clock Dr. Craik arrived, and put 
a blister of flies on the throat of the General, and 
took more blood, and had some vinegar and hot 
water set in a teapot for him to draw in the steam 
from the spout. 

" He also had sage tea and vinegar mixed and 
used as a gargle ; but, when he held back his head 
to let it run down, it almost produced suffocation. 
When the mixture came out of his mouth some 
phlegm followed it, and he would attempt to cough, 
which the Doctor encouraged, but without effect. 
About eleven o'clock, Dr. Dick was sent for. Dr. 
Craik bled the General again, but no effect was pro- 
duced, and he continued in the same state, unable to 
swallow anything. Dr. Dick came in about three 
o'clock, and Dr. Brown arrived soon after; when, 
after consultation, the General was bled again, the 
blood ran slowly, appeared very thick, and did not 
produce any symptoms of fainting. At four o'clock 
the General could swallow a little. Calomel and 
tartar emetic were administered without effect. 
About half past four o'clock he desired me to ask 
Mrs. Washington to come to his bedside, when he 
desired her to go down to his room and take from 
his desk two wills which she would find there, and 



196 L I F E O F 

bring them to him, which she did ; upon looking at 
one, which he observed was useless, he desired her 
to burn it, which she did, and then took the other 
and put it away ; after this was done, I returned 
again to his bedside and took his hand : he said to 
me, " I find I am going — my breath cannot continue 
long : I believed from the first attack it would be 
fatal. Do you arrange and record all my military 
letters and papers ; arrange my accounts and settle 
my books, as you know more about them than any 
one else ; and let Mr. Rawlins finish recording my 
other letters, which he has begun." He asked when 
Mr. Lewis and Washington would return ? I told 
him I believed about the 20th of the month. He 
made no reply to it. 

"The physicians came in between five and six 
o'clock, and, when they came to his bedside. Dr. 
Craik asked him if he would sit up in the bed : he 
held out his hand to me and was raised up, when he 
said to the physician — " I feel myself going ; you 
had better not take any more trouble about me, but 
let me go oflT quietly ; I cannot last long." They 
found what had been done was without effect ; he 
laid down again, and they retired, excepting Dr. 
Craik. He then said to him — " Doctor, I die hard, 
but I am not afraid to go ; I beheved, from my first 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 197 

attack, I should not survive it ; my breath cannot 
last long." The doctor pressed his hand, but could 
not utter a word ; he retired from the bedside and 
sat by the fire, absorbed in grief. About eight 
o'clock the physicians again came into the room, 
and applied blisters to his legs, but went out without 
a ray of hope. From this time he appeared to 
breathe with less difficulty than he had done, but 
was very restless, continually changing his position, 
to endeavour to get ease. I aided him all in my 
power, and was gratified in believing he felt it, for 
he would look upon me with eyes speaking gratitude, 
but unable to utter a word without great distress. 
About ten o'clock he made several attempts to speak 
to me before he could effect it ; at length he said, 
" I am just going. Have me decently buried ; and 
do not let my body be put into the vault in less than 
two days after I am dead." I bowed assent. He 
looked at me again, and said, " Do you understand 
me ?" I replied, " Yes, sir." " 'T is well," said he. 
About ten minutes before he expired, his breathing 
became much easier — he lay quietly — he withdrew 
his hand from mine, and felt his own pulse. I spoke 
to Dr. Craik, who sat by the fire ; he came to the 
bedside. The General's hand fell from his wrist ; I 
took it in mine and placed it on my breast. Dr. 



198 



LIFE OF 



Craik placed his hands over his eyes, and he expired 
without a struggle or a sigh. His loved wife 
kneeled beside his bed, with her head resting on the 
Bible, in which she daily read the precepts and 
cheering promises of her Saviour; and they comforted 
her in her hour of deepest sorrow. Her miniature 
portrait was found on the bosom of Washington, 
where he had worn it for forty years." 

The report of his death reached Congress before 
they knew of his illness. When they heard it, a 
solemn silence prevailed for several minutes ; John 
Marshall, afterwards Chief Justice of the United 
States, rose and said, " This information is not cer- 
tain, but there is too much reason to believe it true. 
After receiving intelligence of a national calamity 
so heavy and afflicting, the House of Representatives 
can be but ill-fitted for public business." He then 
moved an adjournment, and both houses adjourned 
until the next day. When they again met, Mr. 
Marshall proposed several resolutions ; one of which 
was, " Resolved, That a committee, in conjunction 
with one from the Senate, be appointed, to consider 
on the most suitable manner of paying honour to 
the memory of the man, first in war, first in peace, 
and first in the hearts of his fellow-citizens." 

The Senate addressed a letter to the President, in 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 199 

which they said, " Permit us, sir, to mingle our tears 
with yours. On this occasion it is manly to weep. 
To lose such a man, at such a crisis, is no common 
calamity to the world. Our country mourns a 
father. The Almighty disposer of human events 
has taken from us our greatest benefactor and orna- 
ment. It becomes us to submit with reverence to 
him ' who maketh darkness his pavilion.' " The 
President returned an answer expressive of his sor- 
row, and, in conclusion, said, " His example is now 
complete ; and it will teach wisdom and virtue to 
magistrates, citizens and men ; and not only in the 
present age, but in future generations, as long as our 
history shall be read." 

So ends the history of the life of that man whom 
God raised up to be the father of this great nation, 
and to be an example for all men in authority 
through out every age. 



200 LIFE OF 




CHAPTER XVI. 

HE two most wonderful persons of the 
last age — two of the most wonderful 
men who have lived in the world — 
were Washington and Napoleon. 
Our young readers may be presumed to be 
familiar with the histories of both, and it will 
not be unprofitable to impress upon their minds 
their characteristics, separately and in contrast. 
We shall therefore feel no hesitation in laying before 
them the fine comparison which follows, by the Hon. 
James K. Paulding, deeming it the best and simplest 
that has ever been written. 

"The superiority of virtue over mere genius," 
remarks this author, "was probably never exemphfied 
on a scale of greater magnificence, or more com- 
pletely demonstrated, than in the lives and fortunes 
of these two illustrious persons. As a man of 
genius Napoleon was without doubt superior to 
Washington, but his virtues bore no comparison to 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 201 

those of the other. In the activity and comprehen- 
siveness of his mind ; in that clearness of perception 
which enahled him to foresee and overcome the 
obstacles which impeded his course, and achieve an 
unparalleled succession of triumphs, few men, either 
of ancient or modern times, equalled him. In these 
respects, Washington was not his peer perhaps ; and 
yet, when we consider the relative positions of the 
two, I am inclined to believe he was not much his 
inferior. He certainly excelled him in wisdom, 
though he may have been his inferior in genius. 

"The mind of Washington was equal to the full 
and entire comprehension of the sphere in which he 
acted ; and his sagacity in pointing out the probable 
events of the future, as well as guarding against 
either present or remote contingencies, is everywhere 
strikingly displayed, not only in his acts but opinions. 
His letters to Congress, during the progress of the 
Revolution, are principally occupied with pointing 
out approaching danger, or recommending the best 
means of avoiding it ; and it cannot be doubted, that 
had his advice and exhortations been properly 
attended to, the struggle for liberty would have been 
far less protracted and sanguinary. But he was not, 
like Napoleon, an absolute monarch or leader, the 
master of his people. He was the servant of his 



202 LIFE OF 

countrymen, and could advise, but not direct nor 
control their actions or opinions, except by the force 
of his reasoning and the weight of his character. 
These constituted almost the only authority he exer- 
cised, except in his military capacity; and thus 
situated, his means were never in any degree corre- 
spondent with the greatness of his designs, or the 
difficulties which beset him at every moment of his 
mihtary career. We are not, therefore, to judge of 
his talents by the victories he gained, but by the 
defeats which he avoided ; and his crowning merit 
as a warrior is, that of having performed great 
things with weak instruments and comparatively in- 
significant means. 

" Napoleon, on the contrary, in the more early 
stages of his career, was the absolute leader of an 
infuriated multitude ; a nation of thirty millions of 
people, acting under the influence of an enthusiasm 
of which the world furnishes few examples, as to its 
extent or its consequences. This alone had pre- 
viously, under leaders of far inferior capacity, 
achieved a succession of victories over the veteran 
troops of Europe. Napoleon placed himself at the 
head of an irresistible impulse, which was suflicient 
in itself to carry him to the summit of glory. As 
emperor, he reaped the benefits of this national en- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 203 

thuaiasm, which had resulted in the formation of a 
warhke nation and armies inured to victory, as well 
as rendered all but invincible by an ardour almost 
equal to enthusiasm, a confidence the result of a 
long series of successes amounting to prodigies. 
With such instruments, aided by the possession of 
absolute power over a rich and mighty people, it 
was comparatively easy to conquer nations, governed 
by enfeebled monarchs reigning over subjects ren- 
dered unwarlike by having for centuries relied on 
standing armies for protection, and disaffected or 
indifferent toward a government of which they ex- 
perienced little but the oppressions. But had he 
been placed in the situation of Washington, equally 
circumscribed in his means and his authority, there 
is every reason to believe that for want of the virtues 
of that pure and illustrious man, rather than from 
any inferiority of genius, he would have failed in 
accomplishing the great object of freeing his own 
country, or subjecting others. 

" Napoleon was inferior to Washington in patriot- 
ism. He was not born in France ; it was not his 
native land, endeared to him by the ties and associa- 
tions of childhood. He loved glory better than 
France, and sacrificed his adopted country on the 
altar of insatiable ambition. Without doubt, the 



204 LIFE OF 

position he occupied often entailed on him the 
necessity of warring in self-defence, even when he 
seemed the aggressor. It was indispensable that 
he should be Cgesar or nothing; to overturn the 
thrones of others, or cease to reign himself. In this 
point of view, they may be called defensive wars, 
partaking in the sentiment of patriotism, because 
the glory and safety of France were identified with 
his own. But these motives, however they might 
have mingled incidentally with other more powerful 
incitements, cannot justify his conduct toward Spain, 
or his invasion of Russia. His throne was too well 
established at these times to fear either one or the 
other ; and an impartial posterity, while it pardons 
many of his apparent aggressions, will, in all proba- 
bility, denounce these as the offspring not of patriot- 
ism but of a boundless ambition, incapable of being 
satiated by the acquisition of glory or power. 

" If we turn toward Washington, we shall see at 
a glance that ambition, if it at all influenced his 
acceptance of the command of armies which scarcely 
had an existence at the time, was only a latent 
motive, that, of itself alone, could not have stimulated 
him to assume a station which presented in per- 
spective a very remote and doubtful triumph on one 
hand, an ignominious death on the other. He was 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 205 

undoubtedly fully aware of the obstacles, difficulties 
and discouragements which presented themselves on 
every hand ; of the power of the invader and the 
weakness of his opposers. That he accepted this 
arduous and discouraging command with doubt and 
hesitation is apparent from the letter he wrote to 
Mrs. Washington, announcing that event, as well as 
the testimony of his nearest connections, whom he 
either consulted, or who witnessed his struggles. 
The love of his country, and a sense of her wrongs, 
were, without doubt, the great, if not the sole mo- 
tives which induced him to take on his shoulders a 
burthen perhaps as great as ever man bore, and to 
persevere in bearing it in the midst of disappointment 
and defeat, joined to unmerited censure and national 
ingratitude. That the desire of gain did not in the 
least influence his decision is apparent, from his 
stipulating that he should receive nothing for his 
services but the remuneration of his actual expendi- 
tures ; and that the love of power was equally absent 
from his mind, is demonstrated by its resignation 
the moment his country was free. 

" The ambition of Washington was a virtue, that 
of Napoleon a vice. The limits of the one was the 
freedom and independence of his country ; that of 
the other the subjugation of a world. One struggled 



206 LIFE OF 

for the rights of his countrymen ; the other aimed 
at prostrating the rights of nations. One freed, the 
other enslaved his country. Finally, Washington 
drove the enemy from his native soil, w^hile Napoleon 
eventually drew his enemies into the heart of France, 
to subjugate her capital, levy contributions, and re- 
instate on the throne the very family whose misgo- 
vernment had involved her in so many calamities. 

"In dignity of mind ; in patience under privation ; 
in fortitude under calamity and disappointment ; in 
forbearance under provocation; in self-possession 
under misfortune, and moderation in success, Wash- 
ington was far above Napoleon, who knew how to 
command others but not himself. The finest feature 
in the composition of Washington, and that which 
gives him a superiority over all other characters in 
history, was that equal and harmonious combination 
of qualities which distinguished both his head and 
his heart. They formed a consummate whole; a 
perfect edifice, every part of which corresponded 
with the other, and the apparent greatness of which 
is diminished in the contemplation of its symmetry. 
Instead of having our admiration attracted to any 
one particular point, or our wonder excited by some 
monstrous disproportion, the mind dwells with a 
delightful complacency on the perfect whole, as the 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 207 

eye rests on the calm beauties of a summer sunset, 
when nature combines all her harmonies in one, and 
exhibits at a single view her greatness and her 
beauty. There was no master-passion in his mind, 
swallowing up or overshadowing all the rest ; and in 
his virtues there was nothing excessive. We see 
no camel's hump in the formation of his mind ; no 
disproportioned projection producing wonder without 
exciting admiration. Like the star of the mariner, 
he was always the same ; always shining bright and 
clear without dazzling the eye ; always pointing one 
way, •' true as the needle to the pole." 

" Nor do I believe that, on a closer examination, 
his military genius will suffer much in comparing it 
with that of Napoleon. To combine and direct 
small means to the successful attainment of great 
ends, is, in my opinion, evidence of greater skill 
than is exhibited in the conduct of vast enterprises 
with means fully adequate to the object. The direc- 
tion of a small, ill-provided, undisciplined, and dis- 
contented army, dispirited by past disasters, and 
anticipating others to come, is certainly not less 
difficult than leading a well-constituted force, pro- 
vided with everything necessary, and flushed with 
victory, to new conquests. In one case, patience 
fortitude, forbearance, perseverance, an insight into 



208 LIFE OF 

human motives and passions, and a consummate 
skill in their management, is indispensable ; in the 
other, the machine may be said to govern itself, and 
perform its evolutions by the innate force of its own 
principles of action. All critics in the art of war 
unite in placing the difficulties of conducting a de- 
fensive war far above those of an offensive one, and 
giving the preference, not to the general who gains 
the victory, which is often a mere affair of accident, 
but to him who maintains a successful defence 
against a superior force, and preserves his army in 
the midst of disaster and defeat. I know not among 
all the great actions of Napoleon one displaying 
greater intrepidity, enterprise and skill, than was 
exhibited by Washington at the successive battles 
of Trenton and Princeton ; and if we are to estimate 
their importance by their consequences, the most 
celebrated conflicts of ancient and modern times, 
where hundreds of thousands were engaged, and 
tens of thousands fell, become insignificant in the 
comparison. History records that these bloody 
and tremendous contests produced for the most part 
no permanent results. The possession of a town, 
or, at most, the temporary occupation of a portion 
of the country, was all that was acquired in exchange 
for the sacrifice of hecatombs ; and even when vie- 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 209 

tory led to the conquest of states, experience has 
generally shown that the final result was a restora- 
tion of the spoil to its ancient proprietors, or another 
change of nnasters in the person of some new con- 
queror. But these victories of Washington, though 
gained by small numbers, over numbers not much 
greater, were followed by consequences at this 
moment far more momentous than all those of Napo- 
leon combined. They laid a foundation for the 
successful termination of a struggle which gave 
liberty to a new world, and whose principles are now 
at work to achieve a similar triumph in the old. 
The victories of Napoleon have all ended in merely 
transferring France from the dynasty of Bourbon to 
that of Orleans. 

" Still, the unsullied glory of Washington must 
ever rest more on his virtues than on his genius ; 
and it is for this reason he has now become, and 
will remain, so long as the records or traditions of 
past times are preserved, one of the bright, if not the 
brightest light of future ages ; the safest and noblest 
example for imitation ; the model of a patriot ; the 
incarnation of the spirit of a republican hero. In 
his life and actions, both in public and private, we 
see the triumph of virtue, and what wonders she can 
accomplish. It is there most clearly demonstrated 



210 LIFE OF 

that it is not alone to the quahties of the head that 
men are indebted for the brightest honours, the most 
imperishable fame, but that those of the heart have 
a still higher claim to the admiration of mankind. 
In his person, virtue may be said to have resumed 
her lawful supremacy, and the example cannot but 
have the most salutary effects, by giving to public 
admiration a proper direction, and to public gratitude 
the noblest object of devotion. In most other heroes 
the splendour of their achievements throws all their 
defects and vices into the shade ; but had not Wash- 
ington been finally successful, he would haVe stood 
where he stands now, with only this difference, that 
instead of being the deliverer, he would have been 
equally venerated as the great martyr of his country. 
" The fate of these two great men of modern times 
has been as different as was the constitution of their 
minds. One was crushed under the vast fabric of 
ambition he had reared on the necks of millions, and 
cemented with their blood; the other rose to the 
highest pinnacle of glory, by limiting his ambition 
to giving liberty to his country. He did not, like 
Napoleon, after quelling foreign enemies, turn his 
sword on her bosom, and become a still more deadly 
foe by enslaving her himself. The moment of his 
greatest triumph was when, instead of fomenting the 



G E OR GE WASHINGTON. 211 

discontents of an army which, under his auspices, 
had freed the country, and making it the instrument 
of riveting her chains, he sternly rebuked the incen- 
diaries who had incited it almost to mutiny, and, by 
the authority of his name and his virtues, at once 
crushed the meditated treason. The second great 
triumph was when, having finished the war and 
secured the liberties he had so long toiled to attain, 
he surrendered his sword to the President of Con- 
gress, at Annapolis. The third and last was, when, 
after eight years of labour as chief magistrate, in 
maturing the infant government, establishing its 
foreign and internal policy, and, in a great measure, 
perfecting its practical operation, he finally, while 
still in possession of all his faculties, and of the love 
and veneration of his country, retired from public 
life, and at one and the same moment gave to his 
successors an example of sublime moderation, to his 
fellow-citizens one of the noblest lessons of political 
wisdom that ever emanated from the pen of mortal 
man. What a contrast to the fate of Napoleon, who 
was unquestionably among the greatest of men, and 
who wanted nothing to make him perhaps the great- 
est the world ever saw, but the virtues of Wash- 
ington ! 

" Without doubt the different spheres of action in 



212 LIFE OF 

which these two illustrious men respectively moved, 
may have had a material influence on their character 
and conduct. Both undoubtedly frequently acted 
under the pressure of impelhng circumstances, or 
strong necessity. I do not, therefore, join in echo- 
ing the indiscriminate censures heaped on the head 
of Napoleon by that bitter, unscrupulous, and unre- 
lenting spirit which is characteristic of the British 
press. During the latter years of his life he was 
contending with England for the empire of the Old 
World, as is now sufficiently demonstrated in the 
preponderance assumed by that power since his 
downfall, and in such a struggle there is no other 
alternative than the submission or annihilation of 
one or other of the parties. What therefore appears 
to us the frenzy of unchastened ambition, may have 
been nothing more than self-defence, which is some- 
times, nay often, compelled to assume an offensive 
attitude of prevention. It is not always that the 
invader is the aggressor ; and it is at all times per- 
fectly justifiable to anticipate a blow we see coming, 
by striking the adversary beforehand. Nor do I 
wish to elevate Washington at the expense of 
another. He cannot shine brighter by the force of 
contrast or through any invidious comparisons. He 
is among the greatest of men, because he possessed 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 213 

the greatest virtues, and was blessed by Providence 
with a vast and comprehensive sphere for their exer- 
cise. With him the Temple of Fame is the Temple 
of Virtue. 

" The grand structure sought to be reared by 
Napoleon has fallen and buried that mighty mortal 
under its ruins. He attempted to push the world 
aside from its course, and succeeded for a time. 
But the bow seems to have been bent the wrong 
way, and finally broke, or recoiled on himself. His 
actions were splendid almost beyond comparison, 
and his genius equally grand. But I apprehend 
there was some great fundamental error in the 
course of his career, and cannot help suspecting it 
was in not giving liberty to France. It would seem 
that nothing can permanently flourish which is 
founded in a radical principle of wrong. Kingdoms 
may be conquered, nations trodden under foot, and 
for a brief period it may seem that force is 
triumphant over right ; but there is a worm in the 
chaplet of glory acquired by such means, which will 
soon cause it to wither and die. There is a natural, 
irresistible tendency in everything deranged by 
violence to come in its right place again, either by 
a speedy reaction, or by going round in a circle, 
and endinor where it beoran. It would seem that 



214 LIFE OF 

truth alone is everlasting, and that nothing can 
permanently endure which is founded in wrong or 
hostile to virtue. 

"The career of Napoleon ended in hopeless exile, 
on a barren rock in the lone and melancholy ocean ; 
that of Washington closed in more than meridian 
splendour, amid the blessings of his country and the 
increasing admiration of the world. One left behind 
him little else than the wrecks of his career; the 
other founded a vast confederation, every day in- 
creasing in space, in numbers and prosperity, and 
which will continue to do so, only just in proportion 
as it adheres to his maxims and imitates his example. 
Napoleon was a bright but scorching luminary, 
scourging the earth with consuming fires ; Washing- 
ton a genial sun, mild yet radiant; enlightening 
without dazzling ; warming without consuming. 
Both exhibit great moral lessons to the contempla- 
tion of mankind; one as a solemn warning, the 
other as a glorious example. 

" They were emphatically the two great men of 
the age, and naturally come into comparison w^ith 
each other, not only on that score, but because, 
singular as it may seem, they both greatly con- 
tributed to the liberties of mankind; one directly, 
by building up a magnificent edifice of Freedom in 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 215 

the New World ; the other incidentally, by pros- 
trating the ancient fabrics of despotism in the Old, 
and demonstrating the utter weakness of kings, 
when unsupported by the confidence and affections 
of the people." 



216 



LIFE OF 



CHAPTER XVII. 




EFORE concluding this volume, it 
^l may not be inappropriate to notice 
the tomb and sarcophagus in which 
the mortal remains of Washington 
now rest. The new tomb at Mount Vernon 
was constructed about ten years ago, upon 
the site pointed out and especially selected 
by Washington himself, as mentioned in a 
preceding chapter of this work. " The will of this 
great man," says Mr. Strickland, in his ' Tomb of 
Washington,' " with reference to the removal of the 
old family vault, has been most scrupulously com- 
plied with, through the agency of his then only 
surviving executor, Major Lawrence Lewis, the 
nephew and friend of the illustrious deceased. 

" This structure consists simply of an excavation 
made partly in the side of a steep, sloping hill, which 
has a southern exposure upon a thickly-wooded dell. 
The walls are built of brick, and arched over at the 







WASHINGTON'S TOMB 



' »*:*^Bef5®^«; iw 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 217 

height of eight feet above the level of the ground. 
The front of the tomb-house is roughcast, and has a 
plain iron door, inserted in a strong freestone case- 
ment; over the door is placed a sculptured stone 
panel, upon which are inscribed these impressive 
words : 

" 1 AM THE RESURRECTION AND THE LIFE ; HE 

THAT BELIEVETH IN ME, THOUGH HE 

WERE DEAD, YET SHALL HE LIVE." 

At a small distance from the walls of the tomb, 
on all sides, there is a surrounding enclosure of 
brick-work, elevated to a height of twelve feet, and 
guarded in front with an iron gateway, opening 
several feet in advance of the vault door. This 
gateway is flanked with pilasters, surmounted by a 
stone cornice and coping, covering a pointed gothic 
arch, over which is sculptured, upon a plain slab, 
inserted in the brick-work : 

" WITHIN THIS ENCLOSURE REST THE REMAINS 
OF GENERAL GEORGE WASHINGTON." 

The sarcophagus, which now incloses the sacred 
dust of the Great Founder, owes its origin to the 
patriotism and pubhc spirit of a mechanic of Phila- 
delphia. Early in 1837, Major Lewis, surviving 
executor of Washington's will, applied to John 



218 LIFE OF 

Struthers, marble mason, as he styles himself, 
sculptor we shall always call him, to execute a suit- 
able marble coffin to inclose these interesting re- 
mains. In answer to this application, Mr. Struthers 
requested permission to execute, at his own cost, a 
sarcophagus, which he hoped might be deemed 
worthy of so honourable a distinction. This per- 
mission was cheerfully accorded ; and in August of 
the same year the work was completed. In order 
to direct the suitable manner of placing the sar- 
cophagus, and to witness the removal of the remains, 
Mr. Struthers, accompanied by his friend Mr. Strick- 
land, went to Mount Vernon, early in October. 

The following touching account of the removal of 
Washington's remains to their final resting place, is 
extracted from Mr. Strickland's account of this 
visit, contained in his elegant volume entitled " The 
Tomb of Washington." 

" On the morning of the 7th we repaired to Mount 
Vernon, and found the Sarcophagus had arrived, 
and was deposited in front of the enclosure ; and the 
workmen, assisted by a few of the domestics belong- 
ing to the household, were directed to dig out a 
suitable foundation upon which to wall up and place 
it, on the right of the entrance gate. During the 
operation the steward was directed to procure lights 



GEORGE WASHINGTON. 219 

for the purpose of entering the vault, and preparing 
the way for the removal of the body to the outside 
of the vault. The gate of the enclosure was tem- 
porarily closed, and upon the opening of the vault 
door we entered, accompanied by Major Lewis and 
his son. The coffin containing the remains of 
Washington was in the extreme back part of the 
vault ; and to remove the case containing the leaden 
receptacle, it was found necessary to put aside the 
coffins that were piled up between it and the door- 
way. After clearing a passage-way, the case, which 
was much decayed, was stripped offi, and the lead 
of the lid was discovered to have sunk very consid- 
erably from head to foot ; so much so, as to form a 
curved line of four to five inches in its whole length. 
This settlement of the metal had perhaps caused the 
soldering of the joints to give way about the upper 
or widest part of the coffin. At the request of Major 
Lewis this fractured part was turned over on the 
lower part of the lid, exposing to view a head and 
breast of large dimensions, which appeared, by the 
dim light of the candles, to have suffered but little 
from the effects of time. The eye-sockets were 
large and deep, and the breadth across the temples, 
together with the forehead, appeared of unusual size. 
There was no appearance of grave-clothes; the 



220 LIFE OF 

chest was broad ; the colour was dark, and had the 
appearance of dried flesh and skin adhering closely 
to the bones. We saw no hair, nor was there any 
offensive odour from the body, but we observed, 
when the coffin had been removed to the outside of 
the vault, the dripping down of a yellow liquid, 
which stained the marble of the Sarcophagus. A 
hand was laid upon the head and instantly removed ; 
the lead of the lid was restored to its place ; the 
body, raised by six men, was carried and laid in the 
marble coffin, and the ponderous cover being put on 
and set in cement, it was sealed from our sight on 
Saturday, the 7th day of October, 1837." 

The following description of the top and side 
views of the Sarcophagus, are copied from the same 
volume. 

" The construction of the Sarcophagus is of the 
modern form, and consists of an excavation from a 
solid block of marble, eight feet in length, three feet 
in width, and two feet in height, resting on a plinth, 
which projects four inches round the base of the 
coffin. The hd or covering stone is a ponderous 
block of Italian marble, emblazoned with the arms 
and insignia of the United States, beautifully sculp- 
tured in the boldest relief. The design occupies a 
large portion of the central part of the top surface. 



GEORGE WASHINGTOiN 



221 




or lid, and represents a shield, divided into thirteen 
perpendicular stripes, which rests on the flag of our 
country, and is attached by cords to a spear, em- 
bellished with tassels, forming a background to the 
shield, by which it is supported. The crest is an 
eagle with open wings, perching upon the superior 
bar of the shield, and in the act of clutching the 
arrows and olive branch. Between these armorial 




222 LIFE OF GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

bearings and the foot of the coffin, upon the plain 
field of the lid, is the bold and deeply sculptured 
name of 

"WASHINGTON." 

" The foot of the coffin is inscribed as follows : 

" BY THE PERMISSIOiV OF LAWRENCE LEWIS, ESa., 

THIS SARCOPHAGUS OF WASHINGTON WAS 

PRESENTED BY JOHN STRUTHERS, OF 

PHILADELPHIA, MARBLE MASON." 

The remains of Mrs. Washington are now de- 
posited in a marble coffin, sculptured in a plain 
manner by the same chisel, and occupy the space 
on the left of the gateway, or entrance to the tomb. 



THE END. 



